


Brambles

by Taffyberry



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Slavery, dark humour, diverged timeline, organised crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-04 21:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15155834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taffyberry/pseuds/Taffyberry
Summary: Six years after the death of Garrosh Hellscream and the Alliance has seen a period of peace and ongoing prosperity. Stormwind has almost doubled in size, and relations with the horde are better than they have ever been with Vol'jin as warchief. However, a group of renowned assassins belonging to the House of Advent are on the move, and there is a spy within the Alliance. Amidst all of this, a young blacksmith named Gwen moves into the city and makes an unlikely friendship with prince Anduin.





	1. The House of Advent

**Author's Note:**

> Uh-oh! Here we go again, lol. I just... had inspiration :v to write the first chapter :vvvvv I wrote most of it by hand earlier, got killed by a boss in gw2 while I was at it :vvvv lul.

The hot summer sun beat down upon the small garden. Rows upon rows of fruit trees lining the place, apples, pears, oranges; a few fruit bushes too. In the corner, in a small enclosed space, a few strawberry plants. Every plant was healthy, cared for. The garden was well lived in.

A woman with long caramel brown hair was half way up a ladder picking fresh apples. She wore overalls, blue, but had long since abandoned her shirt in the heat. Sweat ran down her arms, down her neck, into her cleavage but she didn’t stop her work. The garden was important to look after.

“Damn, Vass,” a deep voice came, as a man leant against the tree. “You should wear this more often, it’s hot.”

Vass grinned down, wiping sweat off her brow with the back of her arm. “You like it?”

He clicked his tongue, grinning wolfishly at her. “You know I do.”

“Yeah?” she leaned closer to him, letting the strap of her overalls fall down her arm, just a little. “Too bad I like women, eh?”

“Too bad indeed,” he breathed, feeling heady from how much perfume she wore. Roni had always had a thing for Vass, his life had been somewhat shattered when he’d found her with her legs around another woman. His flirting with her now was mostly playful, just a common place thing that was part of their every day lives. 

A door slammed from within the house and both looked up. “Tybalt isn’t happy,” Vass said.

Roni sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “Briar and Tiny came back from their job.”

“Oh?” Vass asked, climbing down the ladder and picking up her basket of apples. She could make a few good pies with these. “He’s always happy with their work—well, Briar’s anyway.”

“Yeah, she shot him.”

The woman almost lost her grip on the basket, doing a double take. “She—what?”

“I dunno,” Roni shrugged. “Tybalt was fuming, I ran out of there before shit blew up,” he grabbed an apple from the basket, wiping it off on his shirt before biting into it. “You really should wear armour like this, it’ll distract your targets.”

“Armour should be useful, protective,” a voice came from the door. Both looked up at the tall woman. She looked… well, Briar never looked anything but impassive, but Roni was sure he saw flits of frustration on her face. To have annoyed her so much she lost her entirely calm mask—he let out a low whistle.

“That’s your problem, Bri,” Roni said, jumping up the small wall to where she was. He turned back to take the basket from Vass, before she hauled herself up. “You have no imagination! You’re always so serious-“ he pulled a straight face to make himself clear.

Briar stared at him, no hint of amusement in her eyes before she sighed. Her rifle was over her shoulder still, her hands covered in blood. Her leather boots were gone, but behind her he could see a trail of red foot prints currently being cleaned by their maid. She never made a mess, that was new. “You shot Tiny?” Vass asked, concern and curiosity in her voice.

“And that’s your problem,” Roni sighed, shaking his head as though he was done with the pair of them. “You care too much.”

“He was on our side, of course I care-“

“No, he wasn’t.”

Roni and Vass turned to the new voice, belonging to a tall imposing and muscular man. He lurked behind Briar, who blinked, entirely unphased. Instead she turned to the girl following behind him and shoved her rifle into her arms. “Put this in my room and if you touch anything-“ there was no need for the threat, the girl went pale and scarpered off. “Yes, I shot him. That’s what we do with traitors,” she muttered to Vass, taking an apple as she stalked off down the garden towards the strawberry patch.

“Traitor?” Vass looked up at Tybalt.

“He was a coward,” the big man answered simply. “Got cold feet during their job, plotted with the guard to get Briar caught in exchange for his safety. So she shot him.”

Roni let out another low whistle. “Dang, that’s cold. I wish I’d seen it. I bet she didn’t hesitate.”

“No, I doubt she did,” Tybalt agreed, watching after her. She had grown so much since she’d come into his care, it was strange to think she used to flit behind him, small and shy; a little bird. But now? Now she was the great tigeress, hunting the little birds and always winning. To think his ‘favourite’ would have been her—he laughed within his chest.

She was perfect. Calm, remorseless, no compassion. 

“She got the job done, too,” Tybalt added, turning on his heel. “Someone clean up Tiny’s body. I don’t want to see that disgusting thing by the time I’m back.”

Roni jogged into the house after him, Vass yelling for him to come back and help her with her apples. “Where ya goin’, boss?”

“Never you mind, Roni,” Tybalt stared down at him. “You’ll find out in due time—call the family together will you?”

Vass huffed, dropping the basket onto the floor in the reception room. She gave her male companion a heated glare, stomping down on his foot firmly for not helping. “All the family?” she asked, blinkinga few times. 

“Yes, it’s time the house of advent had a family meeting,” Tybalt murmured, taking his hat off a stand and slipping it on. One of the maids fussed about buttoning up his jacket, and he lit a cigar, letting it hang from his lips. “Anyone who doesn’t show will be out, make that clear, chicka.”

And with that, he left.

Vass and Roni stared at each other. A few maids were in Tybalts office, seemingly clearing up Tiny’s corpse—Roni wanted to see, a grim fascination overcoming him, but he’d called them all together. Every member of the family. Something big was coming, wasn’t it?

“Do you think Lila will actually come?” Vass asked, frowning. 

“Lila?” Roni shrugged. “Well she has to, doesn’t she?” he frowned back at her. “Otherwise she’s out, and I wouldn’t want the Boss man setting Briar on me,” he let out a shudder at the idea. “You know the rules, V,” he sighed, seeing her troubled expression. “You only get out by being dead.”

“She could hide,” Vass suggested, sounding hopeful.

“She could try,” Roni murmured, flitting into the office. Tiny lived up to his name; he was small, the youngest of them, the newest of them. He was still sort of ‘in training’ as it were, but well, now—this was what happened if you betrayed the house, if you betrayed the family. “Damn,” he muttered, pointing at the bullet hole on his neck. “Bri’s aim is perfect. I wonder how far away she was.”

Vass groaned from the other room. “I don’t want to know, Roni.”

He snorted. “Come off it, you like to dress your targets up! That’s just sick!”

“I like the personal touch!” she cried out, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t like them covered in blood, and knives do that, you know?” Her brow knotted together. “They should at least look nice in death.”

“Don’t you want to dress Tiny up?” he asked, coming to the door way.

“You’re the sick one,” Vass muttered, lifting the basket of apples. “Come, we need to send word to the others-“ she smacked his hand away from taking another apple, glaring at him. “She is gonna kill you if you keep eating them.”

Roni laughed, taking an apple anyway as he stalked up the stairs. “Briar is probably going to kill me anyway. May as well make it sweet.”


	2. Gwen

“Steady! Steady now!”

It was quite the commotion. 

Market goers watched the new arrivals into the city with amusement and weariness. Anyone who disturbed the peace that Stormwind had fallen into for the past six years was always treated with caution. It could be said the people of Stormwind had fallen into a stagnant state, too scared to do anything out of the ordinary for fear the peace would shatter like a glass. There were always people coming and going, it wasn’t anything new, but a group of dwarves, a human, and a few gnomes coming in through the main gate rather than through the tram, was. 

A gnome with pink hair and a green beard was directing the large packs of horses, much to the amusement of the human female, and a dwarf she was talking animatedly with. She stood out the most, not just because she was the only human, but because of her fiery red hair which she left piled on top of her head in a sort of messy bun. She was also large, perhaps looking moreso due to her company, but a few of the women peered at her looking quite aghast. What business did a woman, and one who had the potential to be really pretty, have with muscles like those? And being that tall? And—one of the noble women screwed her nose up—was that soot on her cheek? She felt like she might throw up.

Gwen noticed their stares, but they didn’t bother her. She’d heard it before, always the same comments. Maybe if she lost the muscles she’d find a man, maybe if she did this, maybe if she did that—she didn’t care for maybes, she cared what she could do. Put some iron into her hands and she could meld it into the finest weapons and armour you’d ever seen, and to do that, she needed her muscles. They weren’t huge, at least she didn’t think so, she’d seen plenty of warriors, tried arm wrestling with some of the huge ones a few times but never won—she was just the size she needed to be to do what she enjoyed doing.

“Ah yer pa would be proud,” the greying dwarf next to her bawled. “He always dreamed of ye being…” he let out a gruff sounding noise. 

“I’m not the finest smith on Azeroth yet, Dill,” she laughed softly, covering her mouth with her hand a she did so. If there was one thing she was conscious of, it was how she looked when she smiled. She’d been told it looked fake, and at other times, told she—well, told she looked like a camel. “He’d be proud then,” she said quietly, thinking back to her father.

Her ‘father’ had been a dwarf. Of course, he wasn’t her biological father but she didn’t know him. Both of her parents had been killed in Orcish raids when she was much younger. The dwarf, a paladin, had come along and found her crying in the wreckage of their house. She was only two, and she clung to her stuffed doll like it was the finest weapon in the world. She wasn’t sure why he’d decided to raise her, but she was glad he did. He taught her everything she knew, inspired the love of the outdoors within her as well. She missed him deeply. He’d died a long time ago, too, during a campaign to Northrend against Arthas. 

So, Gwen had set out more determined after that, to become the greatest smith Azeroth had ever seen. She wanted her name to be known by everyone, even those who didn’t know weapons and armour. She wanted her creations to protect the finest armies and kings for futures to come. Stormwind was the start of that. 

She’d been lucky in finding a job in the army’s smithy within the city. She’d worked hard trying to impress the head smith there. It had taken a long time to earn his approval, but here she was. 

Stormwind was very different from Ironforge. It was much colder. She supposed it was welcome, being stuck in the smithy all day was hard work, hot and sweaty and she didn’t get to be outside as much as she’d like. At least here it would be a different story.

Dill pat her arm, smiling warmly. “Ya said ya already got somewhere to stay?”

“Yep!” She said happily, letting herself down from the carriage and gabbing her pack on the way. “Nowhere fancy, I’ve been saving for a long time for this,” She grinned at him. “I’ll have to invite you around for tea-“ she laughed when he pulled a face. “Or an ale or two. I’ll need to get some of the finest dwarven kegs sent in,” She nodded to herself, making a mental note. “Don’t go getting into trouble, Uncle Dill!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grinned at her, showing off his golden teeth. “At leas’ not without ya!”

Gwen laughed at him, shaking her head as she navigated her way around the city. She’d been given instructions on how to find the city registry to pick up the key to the house she’d purchased. She’d been saving since she’d first decided she wanted to do this with her life, ever since she was twelve. Over ten years' worth of savings, and it had been worth waiting. The place she’d found was small, but since it was only her she didn’t mind. Stormwind had grown so much the past years, there was so much housing and so a lot of it was cheaper than it had originally been. Her only requirement had been the garden, she loved tending to the land too much to not have one. It was a novelty she didn’t have in Ironforge and she couldn’t wait to get started.

Everything almost seemed like a dream, a good one, a very good one.

* * *

At night, Stormwind was just as much alive as in the day. The market bustle was replaced by busy taverns, parties and weddings, laughter from all sorts of people, happy drunks in the street, drunken soldiers who had gotten off shifts. It was loud, and Briar didn’t like it much.

Still, it had perfect vantage points.

They’d been guarded, but—she looked down at the guard corpse at her feet. They were unobservant, he’d not even noticed the dagger in his throat until he’d hit the ground. If any of the other guards noticed the change in figure they didn’t raise an alarm, and so she was free to carry on with her work.

She was slow so set up, taking her time with every step. Methodical in her work. Her hands knew her rifle well enough that she was able to keep watch for her mark within the city below while she prepped it. Her rifle made by her own hands many years ago when Tybalt had first recognised her ‘potential’. It seemed a whole other life away. Her rifle had seen many changes though, and her recent one was the addition of a new silencer, a prototype and she hadn’t tested it yet. Yet, Briar had no doubt of its success and intended to leave the way she’d arrived. Calmly, and without anyone even noticing.

But she was not one to dwell on the past, especially not on a job, and her eyes picked up her mark easily.

She never asked why. Only the who mattered.

Dill Flynn. A dwarf newly arrived in the city. She’d kept tabs on him through most of his journey, and now he was separated from his group it was easy enough. He wasn’t hard to find, he was loud, always telling outrageous stories she was positive weren’t true. He liked to name drop, too. If he knew anyone remotely important. Quite frankly, she found the dwarf annoying.

She found many people annoying, it wasn’t anything new, but usually she could push them from the forefront of her mind. It spoke volumes that he annoyed her enough to have an opinion on it. She grunted to herself, peering down the scope.

He was easy to find.

Stumbling drunkenly through the old town. He stepped on a cat's tail, screaming when it clawed his leg. In that instant her finger flexed. A silent shot. She was already packing up before his body hit the ground, she was confident in her ability. She’d knew it had hit the mark, for a start he’d shut up his infernal screaming. Even if someone found him, they’d have to get a healer to him within a minute to prevent him from bleeding out. The alcohol in his system wouldn’t help.

Another easy job.

Briar jumped down from the guard tower, slipping past one who had their back to her, and vanished into the back alleys of the city. The only trace she’d been there was a single bullet shell. They were unique to her gun, they’d never be able to trace it. They’d know it was her—but not where she was. She was honestly quite disappointed, she’d hoped for—for at least a bit of danger.

It seemed this was going to be another easy job. Tybalt's promise of it being the biggest thing they’d ever pulled off echoed in her ears as she stared up at the keep which loomed over the city. The assassination of the prince and the king. She shuddered thinking about it, anticipation running through her veins as though it had replaced the blood. They had a long way to go before that step, but all she cared about was impressing Tybalt enough over her brothers and sisters within the House of Advent that she would get the honour of the kill on them both.

She cared nothing about the prince, but the king?

That would be the kill she was going to savour most.

And no one was going to take it from her.

* * *

The Stormwind Blacksmith was entirely different to the one back home. It was mostly outside, with covered portions in case of the rain, and it wasn’t as big despite the bigger army. Gwen longed for the great forge, and vowed to herself that in the future, she was going to expand this place. Make it huge, make it the centre for blacksmithing next to Ironforge.

Despite it being smaller, it was much busier. There were always soldiers or adventurers coming or going, so she always had something to do. At first, a few of the soldiers had been shocked to find a woman there, but no one gave her backchat or lip, and after a few days, she’d become quite chatty with a few of them. They were all good men she decided, and a few of them were funny enough.

After a few days work, she would finally have a day off. She planned to work on her garden, already having planned mentally just what was going where. She’d brought as many seeds to replant as possible, but it was likely she would have to venture outside of the city at some point to source more. She couldn’t wait to explore more.

“I’m looking for a Miss. Gwen?”

“That’s me!” She said, turning to the guardsman. She blinked a few times in curiosity, wiping her hands off on a rag. “Can I help you, Sir?”

“You are Gwen?” he frowned. “But you’re human.”

“I’m sorry?” she asked. “Is that a problem?”

“No! I- no,” he cleared his throat. “Could you come with me? I’m afraid I have some bad news concerning Dill Flynn. You knew him, yes?”

“Yes,” she said, worry and confusion upon her face. “Is he okay?”

“If you could come with me.”

She paused, debating whether to fight him on it and demand she be told, but instead nodded. She tucked the rag into the tie of her apron and led them back into one of the rooms they used for finishing weapons. It was empty right now.

“When did you last have contact with Mr. Flynn?”

Gwen thought for a moment. “About four days ago. He came around to mine for some ale to celebrate the job and the new house.”

“And nothing since? Is it strange to not hear from him for so long?”

“Not really,” she said simply. “He was going to the tavern after he left, knowing uncle Dill, he would have drunk himself into a week-long coma. He is okay… right?”

The guard frowned, looking quite uncomfortable. “Three days ago, he was found lying in the streets of the old town, dead.”

“What?” she asked, sitting down on the table to steady herself. “But that’s not—what? Do you know who?”

“We are still investigating,” he said. “Do you have any knowledge of whether he’d upset anyone?”

“No,” She said quickly. “I mean, he liked to pull pranks and get into mischief, but uncle Dill would never hurt a fly-“ she screwed her brows up in concentration. “I can’t think of anyone.”

The guard paused. “You don’t seem too shocked.”

“Oh, I am!” she said quickly. “I’ve just seen enough death. I assure you I’m quite upset, I just—need some time to process it-“ she gulped. “You have no idea at all who…?”

“I promise you we are looking into it,” he said firmly. “The killer will be caught.”

Gwen stared at him with a grim expression upon her face. "How was he killed?" She asked quietly.

"Miss... are you sure that you wish to know?" The guard asked, looking unsure.

She nodded, pieces of her fiery red hair falling in front of her face. She wanted to know. It wasn't as if she was new to death, new to violence, or new to any form of blood, but—this was her _uncle_. Uncle Dill. She had to know. Just had to. Maybe she could find who was responsible, take one of her blades and put it through them.

"A single gunshot wound."

"A gun can do that?" She asked, sounding unbelieving. "Surely someone would have heard a gun go off?"

"It is... complicated," he frowned. "We... don't know, simply put."

Gwen sighed deeply, glaring at him. Useless, the lot of them. If they didn't know, if they didn't have any clue, then how could anyone be safe? She'd heard plenty of stories about the city, about how it was an amazing place to live. Prosperous. Full of chances. Now? Now it seemed so clouded. She'd heard just as much about the king, a lot of it not very nice, but plenty of her friends growing up had been from the poorer parts of the city. They didn't like him much, they thought he cared little about them, that he was cold and only cared about war. Perhaps they were right. She always prided herself on never judging a person based on the words of other people alone, but--

But maybe it was true.

Of course, the king's integrity had nothing to do with Dill's death. Murder. She felt strangely cold for being within a blacksmith. Murder. Someone she knew, murdered. It didn't quite seem real. "If you excuse me," she said, opening the door. "I have work to carry on doing."

The guard looked troubled for a moment. "Are you sure? You've had a shock-"

"I'm fine," She snapped, leaving the room before he could. She huffed. When would they stop acting as though she were a delicate flower? As if to prove her point, she went straight back to work without looking at another person.

Yet she could feel it wearing on her as the day went on. When it started raining in the afternoon, she just stared out from under the cover, sipping on some hot peacebloom tea. It was hard to believe he was gone, that she would never hear one of his loud, drunken stories ever again. So, she didn't hide her relief when work let up early and she was free to wander the streets of the city. She didn't want to go home, not just yet. She thought about having a drink in his honour, but to honour him well she'd need to get quite drunk. Alcohol and hot workrooms didn't tend to go well together so she couldn't risk a hangover in the morning.

Instead, Gwen walked. There was so much of the city she had to see yet. Her feet brought her to the cathedral square, and she paused, staring up at the large building. Despite her father being a paladin, she'd never been one for religion. The light was real, she'd seen him, felt its warmth and its work. But she'd never stepped foot within a chapel or a cathedral, in fact the only priest she'd ever spoken to had been a friend of her fathers, and she'd spent more time drunk than sober.

Was now the time to turn to religion?

Probably not.

Instead Gwen shoved her hands in her pockets and looked up at the sky. It was grey, no hint of the beautiful summer sunshine anyway. Voices came from the cathedral and she knew she should move from the steps but she felt so entranced just enjoying the cool rain. It was so nice after such a long day. She was probably a mess, covered in soot and oil. Her hands alone were calloused and covered with numerous new cuts and bruises and burns, and yet—yet she wouldn't change it.

She didn't look when someone's shoulder brushed with hers, when a man uttered a soft apology. Perhaps she should have, perhaps she should have looked up and told him it was her problem for being in the way, but she remained still. She drew her hands from her pockets and ran her fingers through her wet hair, muttering. Her messy bun had mostly fallen out over the course of the day, and it was a mess of tangles now. Knotted even more from the rain. She'd enjoy a long hot bath later, get the grime off her skin. 

"Miss?"

She blinked, looking at the guard who had addressed her. This one was different to the others, he wore more armour—or at least fancier armour. And better made. She looked over the quality of the work, feeling envious of the person who could make such fine things, and curious as to how this man could afford it—unless he was a royal guard? But there was no royalty around that she could see. It was just him and her, and one guard at the entrance to the cathedral. 

"Are you okay?"

"Who me?" She shrugged. "I'm fine."

"It's just you've been standing there staring at the sky for quite some time."

"Is that against the law?" She asked, giving him a small smile to reassure him she did not mean it in any hostile way.

"Of course not," he said, letting out a small laugh. "But it's raining, mam, and you have no jacket or cloak."

"If I get sick then I suppose it's on me then," she said simply, but then sighed. "I'll head home."

"You going in?"

"No."

She was aware of his stare but made no effort to explain her decision to him, yet he did not seem to want to leave her side. Strange; did he think she was suspicious? She supposed she did look a mess, maybe he thought she was a beggar or something—she snorted. Did he think she was there to beg for hand-outs?

"My uncle was killed the other day," she said at length. 

His expression changed instantly, the one of curiosity and distrust melted away, leaving space for the softer one of compassion and sympathy. "I'm sorry," he offered.

Gwen shrugged. "You didn't kill him—did you?" She raised an eyebrow. When he shook his head she gave him a smile. "I just decided to take a walk and my feet let me here."

"The priests are very good if you need to-"

"Talk to someone?" She laughed, shaking her head. "I prefer to work things out by taking a hammer to a piece of steel and forging it into something useful-" she paused, hitting her knuckle gently on his breastplate. "That's some awful good steel you have there. I'm jealous of the person who made it. Fine work-" she laughed at his expression. "I just arrived here, I work at the blacksmith's—I'm sorry, I didn't get your name?"

"Alton, mam," he said quickly, staring at her intently. "And may I ask for yours?"

"Gwen," she replied, offering her hand in a hand shake for him.

Instead, Alton took her hand gently and raised her knuckles to kiss them, as though she were some gentle noble girl. She found it amusing—laughing softly. "A pleasure, Gwen."

She shook her head at him. "I think my hands have never seen anything so gentle," She mused. "They're used to ale mugs and arm wrestles and hot conditions." She paused, stepping back. "I should head back now, before I _do_ get sick."

Alton bowed his head to her politely, an amused and interested smile upon his lips. "I hope to see you around again, Gwen."

She gave him a sweet smile back, brushing some stray hair behind her ear. "I hope so, too."


	3. Initiative Move

It was funny, the affect a budding romance could have on… well, generally everything. Despite the death of her uncle, Gwen found herself in a perpetually good mood. She greeted the baker in the morning with a smile, and when she was on her way home and he was packing up, she would greet him with a smile then, too. Some days Alton would be with her, he’d hold her hand or take her arm as they walked the streets. She wasn’t used to being treated this way, like a… well, like a lady. She was so used to men who just saw her as ‘one of the guys’, it didn’t bother her—in fact she felt as though she preferred that, but… but this was nice. The change was refreshing, and she found herself smiling every time he showed some act of compassion and care towards her.

As it turned out, Alton was personal bodyguard to the crown prince of Stormwind, Anduin Wrynn, and the person who had walked into her on the stairs of the cathedral had been Anduin. She was awfully humiliated when she realised and asked Alton to pass on an apology, but he’d just laughed. Apparently Anduin had been worried and had sent him to check on her. If anything, her standing there like a dithering idiot had been what had caused them to meet.

Two weeks passed easily. He took her on numerous dates, usually in places he knew of. Quiet places, or romantic ones. She decided, after those two weeks, that it was time to introduce him to the types of places that she often frequented. Gwen was positive he would have a heart attack, that he would worry the entire time, but she hoped more that he would loosen up and enjoy it.

“This place?” he asked, staring up at the old town tavern. It wasn’t too far from the military barracks, but he’d never been in. He knew it was a haunt for the other guards, the lower ranked ones. The other royal guards tended to frequent taverns in the more… wealthy parts of the city. This was full of brawls, and loud drunken men and women—“You like this type of place?”

Gwen laughed. “I grew up in Ironforge with a Dwarf for a father!” she said loudly, all but grabbing his hand and dragging him in. “This is nothing next to Brewfest in Ironforge. If you live with a Dwarf, you learn to drink like one-“ she gave him a huge grin. “Don’t worry, Ser Knight. I shall protect you.”

Alton chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist and tucking her to him. “Good thing I have tomorrow off.”

The red head grinned. “What a coincidence, I do, too.” She led him to the bar through the loud crowd and he turned to ask what she was drinking, but she surprised him by all but forcing her way to the front of the queue and yelling an order. The barman laughed, greeting her by her name and he realised she really did frequent this place.

Alton was struck by just how amazing she was. He was so used to smaller girls, demure girls who did everything that the posh women with their noses in the air expected of them. Gwen was different, she didn’t care about how she looked, she didn’t care what people thought of her, she was herself, loudly and unapologetically and he wouldn’t have changed any of it. Funny, he never would have thought of a girl like Gwen before, and yet she turned out to be a most welcome surprise. In fact, he wondered if he should not introduce her to Anduin. Being around the prince so much, they’d become friends to a fashion. Alton didn’t really have other friends, he was too married to his job; of course, he had other guards, but he was younger than the other royal guards and they all had wives or husbands and families of their own. It would probably be good if he did introduce them, after all, they were bound to meet at some point soon; he lived within the keep, so he was never too far from his charge, if they became closer….

His cheeks burned, and he was certain he looked to be in a daze as she turned to him and pushed a tankard into his hands, but she didn’t question it, instead she just pushed his shoulder towards a table. It looked sticky and was occupied by two rather burly men who greeted her loudly—did she know everyone here?

“Gwen!”

“Mo!” She said happily. “And Petyr! This is Alton-“ she smiled at him, then at them, taking a seat. Alton sat next to her. This place suited her, he thought, it was loud and big, and she was loud and big. Not that she yelled when she spoke, but… but there was something about her that just yelled ‘look at me!’. She had that type of presence, a compelling one, one which made him never take his eyes from her.

“Ahh is this the lover boy who’s had you so happy?” Mo asked, grinning over his tankard. The froth of his beer sticking to his moustache in a way Alton thought he should have been disgusted by, but….

He needed to put his judgements aside. Gwen liked these people, and they were polite and kind and made her laugh. He liked when she laughed. He should loosen up, enjoy it. It was true, he was outside of his comfort zone, but if she could do it, then so could he. Maybe he was reading too much into what they had, it had only been two weeks, but he wanted to make a proper go at it. A serious one. He would try hard.

And try he did, try to keep up with her in drinking, that was. He’d thought he had learned well growing up in the army, but he was most certain, that while he was kissing her against the wall outside of the tavern while it rained that night, that she was not drunk at all. Yet she was not stopping him, she didn’t say no when his hands strayed too far, when his eyes turned dark and full of hunger as he took her in—this wasn’t like him, it was just—

He should take his time, do it properly, woo her properly—

Yet he was leading her towards his rooms within the keep without thinking about it. Peeling away her wet clothes, everything screaming at him to stop—they were going too fast… yet she didn’t say no, she wasn’t stopping him. Her hands were on his body, working at his own wet clothes, brushing his wet hair from his face.

Oh, to hell with it, he thought at length. He wanted her, and if she wanted him, too, then what was the big deal? Procedure? Courting her? It was obvious she didn’t care about those things, and who was going to judge them? His family lived far away, and she had no family. He doubted any of her friends would judge her—and Anduin… well, the prince didn’t have to know.

It was a mess of bumping limbs in the dark, giggles, some awkwardness—but as he lay there, falling asleep with her bare body against his—Alton decided he was very glad she’d been so lost in the world that day on the steps of the Cathedral, that Anduin had sent him to see if she was okay.

* * *

 

Briar’s boots splashed through the puddles on the cobble stone of the trade district.

Above her, lightning lit up the sky and thunder rumbled. There were drunken couples giggling and jumping to and from each alley way. She paid no attention; she didn’t care what these nobodies did. She had a destination in mind, and nothing was taking from it.

She’d left her rifle behind this time. Though it was her preferred method of dealing with her contracts, it wasn’t her only one; sometimes the situation called for more personal touches, or the contract itself would specify a way to take out the mark. This was one of the former. A guard, Samuel or something—she wasn’t too sure of his name, it had been long and confusing, but she’d remembered his face from the picture she’d been given.

If Vass had been given the contract, she knew very well that the woman would have seduced the man and then killed him as she had sex with him. Then she’d get up to whatever perversion it was she liked to do with the corpses—Briar didn’t like that method. Any time feelings were involved made you inefficient, she thought. Even casual sex had feelings related to it, and so she stayed away, and shut herself off. No feelings. Just the thrill of the kill.

She would not seduce him, she’d already paid another woman for that. Briar didn’t glance at the woman who stood outside of the house as she dropped a bag of coins into her hand, didn’t look as she sashayed away, deciding what to treat herself with on her sudden windfall. She had sought her out two days ago, given her strict instructions. She knew the guard rotations, knew that Samuel was on duty, but that he didn’t want to be that night. That he would be easy to lure away because he hated his job, he resented protecting the king and the prince. A weak link, an easy target.

The guard would be upstairs, tied to a chair, waiting for the woman she’d paid to return.

As Briar came upstairs, she was not disappointed to find him there, tied up and blindfolded. A nice touch, she thought. Sometimes, she liked to play with her prey. It was a childish habit she had, something she was not entirely able to kick. Perhaps she would play for once—yet—the city hall clock chimed, and she sighed. She didn’t have time; the guard rotation would change soon and it would make it harder to get out.

“Petunia?”

“She’s not coming, I’m afraid,” Briar said quietly, dragging a chair to sit right in front of him. “She sent me to keep you company.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” he murmured. “But we can have some fun.”

Briar stared at him. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. She sighed, dipping into her shirt to pull a small purple vial from her bra. “Here,” She said, unstopping the thing and offering it to him. “It will help you loosen up.”

“I’m already pretty loose, baby,” he purred.

Oh what she wouldn’t give to be able to shoot him a few times, to take him out—instead she kept her cool, pushing it towards him. “Please?”

“Oh, alright,” he sighed, lifting it to his lips.

She stood up before he’d finished. It would have only taken a single drop of kingsbane to do the trick, and the fool had tipped the thing entirely up. Bottoms up, she supposed. It would be a messy death, something she despised. He’d choke, probably be sick, foam at the mouth, bleed a lot—she didn’t like that. She preferred much… cleaner methods. She could have used any other poison, but… kingsbane would send a message. It was much too boring taking out these people one at a time, she wanted a challenge from it; she wanted the king and his guards, Mathias Shaw and the others, to step up their game.

After all, what was the point of a game of chess if your opponent never even tried?

* * *

 

Alton groaned, sitting up when he heard a knock on his door. His head—jeeze—so this was what he missed out on by not getting drunk all the time. And yet—he looked down at Gwen, smiling softly. She was sleeping so peacefully, so gently—her hair had fallen from its bun and the fiery tangles were strewn about her, making it look as though she was enveloped in flames—

“Alton!”

He checked the clock. Ten. “Alright,” he called, slipping on some breeches as he went into the living part of his rooms. It was his day off, Anduin didn’t have to know that he had a woman in his bed. “What is it?” he asked, yawning as the prince all but barged in. “Anduin?”

“Samuel was killed las night,” the prince said loudly, looking at him. Alton had watched Anduin grow well the past few years; his chin and shoulders now resembled his fathers a lot more, and his hair had grown quite a bit. He was a fine young man, polite and fair, warm and just—if not a bit of a loner like himself. Anduin liked quiet, he liked books and he disliked social functions where nobles would force their daughters and sons upon him.

“Sam is…?” Alton frowned, trying to shake the alcohol from his system. “But how?”

Anduin shook his head. “Kingsbane,” he breathed. “He was found in some house in the trade district. Supposed to be abandoned. The front door was open, whoever did it wanted us to find him—father is absolutely out of his mind over this.”

“I’m not surprised… why did he leave his post?”

The prince sighed, pausing when a figure appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. He froze, his cheeks rising into a soft blush when he realised the woman was wearing one of Alton’s shirts and not much else. Her red hair was a mess, tangles and resting loosely below her shoulders. She looked as though she’d just woken up, her eyes half lidded… Anduin was not innocent enough to not realise what had gone on. He knew that Alton had been seeing a girl, but it hadn’t dawned on him that it had been the one from the Cathedral steps, and that it was so… serious—“I’m sorry,” he apologised, looking away.

“Oh!” Gwen said, jumping. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

Alton blushed himself. “Sorry,” he said, apologising to both. “I should… I would…” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I planned to introduce her to you properly,” he said to Anduin, giving him a meek grin.

“I-It’s fine,” Anduin breathed, wanting to look at her again. She was quite attractive, but he wasn’t sure if that was her, or the sex that clung to her. He’d never seen a woman in the morning like this, so… so natural, and so… he breathed. Light, he should not even be thinking about staring at his friend’s girlfriend the way he wanted to.

Gwen shook her head, feeling less shy about it than he was. “I hope Alton passed on my apologies,” She said softly, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. “I mean, that you walked into me—I didn’t mean to get in the way.”

“You were there first,” Anduin replied quickly, looking at her, and rather wishing he hadn’t. His lips parted, and his cheeks went pinker than before. He was so used to women that there was barely anything of, that seeing this one—she was tall, her legs and arms were muscular—he breathed again, trying to drown out the sound of his heart beating from his head. “A-anyway,” he cleared his throat, turning to Alton. “Father wants to see you, Mathias too.”

Gwen shook her head, kissing Alton’s cheek before he could turn to apologise. “Go do your job, I should get back anyway,” she glanced over at the clock. “Come find me when you’re free,” she smiled, kissing his lips. “It was nice to meet you, your highness,” She smiled at Anduin, giving him a small curtsey, before she headed back into the room with a grace that Anduin was positive she should not possess.

He wanted to ask her to come back, to say he hadn’t gotten her name—but this was his friends girlfriend, someone he absolutely should not even want to get close with. Yet… here he was. Anduin breathed, nodding his head to Alton and excusing himself quickly. His father had women, they always left long before he woke up, but a few times he’d seen them in the morning. They were usually in various states of undress, often hopping around putting shoes on and hurrying off—but they’d never… affected him like this. Perhaps it was their age, this girl, the girl with the fire for hair, she seemed his age and—

And he wanted to know her, even though he shouldn’t. He breathed out, trying to focus himself into more important matters. One of his other guards was dead, and whoever had done it was after him, or his father or perhaps both. Alton was in danger, too, now, and perhaps so was she. Anduin sighed, running his fingers through his long, blonde hair and decided that the girl had picked a very bad time to begin dating his personal guard.


	4. Perfectly Planned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the aka I really don't like this chapter, but I love writing this more than I love writing my other one so I want to write this but I hate what I wrote :v

Briar had never been the type of person to have likes or dislikes. She had things which she tolerated, things in which she preferred doing, but not things she enjoyed. Well, she liked killing and she liked tending to her garden, she supposed, but she wasn’t the type of person to have a favourite type of food, or favourite season, favourite colour—she didn’t care. It was all trivial, all pointless. When she was younger, before she’d met Tybalt, just a small girl who clung to her father’s hand with her doll under her arm—

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. 

Yet the early mornings of Stormwind were something she found that she did enjoy. It was peaceful, one of the few times the busy city was still, and the sun hit the right spots to give her cover, but also to enjoy the warmth. She could scout out locations and targets easiest in the mornings. It had been three weeks since she’d killed that guard, Samuel, and she was ultimately disappointed in the results of the Stormwind guard. They’d put up more rotations, combed more of the city, but she’d managed to take down a mark every few days since, and no one had even glanced at her. If she was honest with herself, she was beginning to get rather bored. Perhaps it was time to pick up the pace, to get on with the main act.

“So why did you call me out here?” Vass muttered, not enjoying being dragged out so early. She needed her beauty sleep, but, money was money, and no one told Briar no for anything. “Not like you to need help.”

She grunted, offering her a sealed envelope. “I need you to take care of this mark.”

“Why?” Vass asked, hesitating in opening it. “It’s not like you to pass a target—I don’t think I’ve seen you ever…” her eyes narrowed. “Is this a trap?”

“No,” Briar said firmly, folding her arms across her chest. They were within the trade district, lingering near the bank. The one place in the morning it was busy enough that neither of them would be overheard. “I need to head home and talk to Tybalt about stepping the pace up. These marks are all dull—be grateful, Vass, this one is probably the most exciting.”

With eagerness, the other woman ripped the envelope open. They were all, the entire family, involved in this plot but it was only Briar who got the ‘important’ contracts. She’d been assigned in a small town in Westfall, luring guards aside and infiltrating them for information. When the guards had less information, she killed them. Eventually the plan would lead to her installing members of the family trained for the specific job of infiltrating the army from the inside. Tybalt wasn’t doing anything by halves with his plan, and he was taking great care in every step. Every single mark had a reason. And this one was the most exciting?

But it was just a girl—Vass paused—just a girl. “Why?”

Briar shook her head. “She’s the girlfriend of the favourite personal guard to the prince.”

“Is that it?” Vass asked, sounding disappointed, yet murmured an apology when a glare was shot her way. Briar was never any fun, and honestly, she made her uneasy. It wasn’t right to be so emotionless, to be so… cold and accepting of it. She knew it was how the girl was raised, but… If she sensed any form of double crossing, Briar wouldn’t hesitate to kill a person she’d eaten at the same table for the past five years. It unnerved her, for any reason, any hesitation—she didn’t like being alone with her for the pure reason. She stared closer at the mark, squinting at the picture.

“He’s entirely infatuated with her,” Briar explained. “Follows her like a lost puppy. Take her out and he’s going to end up drinking himself into a stupor—plus,” she paused, fishing a vial out from her top and offering it to her. “This sends an important message. Make sure you do it somewhere public, too, cause a scene. Make it theatrical.”

“If I get caught—” Vass muttered. 

“If you get caught then you’re a pathetic excuse for a member of the family,” Briar hissed, turning to stare at her. “This is Tybalts plan; are you questioning his orders?”

“No,” she said quickly, screwing the parchment up in her hand. With her other hand, she took the vial of poison. She knew instantly what it was the scent of nightshade was strong within it, a scent which often clung to Briar herself. “No, I’m not questioning his orders. I just don’t understand-“ she muttered. “Why couldn’t you ask Roni?”

“Don’t ask questions, just do your job.”

Vass stared after her, watching the other girl vanish down the alley and towards the main gate. It bothered her that Tybalt had told Briar, and only Briar, the plan. The full plan, every reason, every twist—why didn’t he share with anyone else? Vass snorted; because Briar was the pet, the favourite—and yet—she looked down at the mark again. This girl—

Slowly, it dawned on her what Tybalts plan was and she let out a deep laugh. Oh, Briar had been right! This _was_ the most exciting target yet. This was, indeed, going to get the game really started. To think, the pair of them had it so intricately planned, every detail accounted for—she decided, instead, to take it as a compliment that Briar would trust her with this mark and set about hunting for the girl mentioned.

* * *

 

Elwynn Forest had plenty of the plants Gwen had needed to harvest for her garden. On her days off, if she didn’t spend them with Alton, she’d be out hiking and looking for more seeds to go home and plant. Her garden was coming along nicely, before the Summer was over, she would have a nice patch of vegetables and fruits ready. 

Sometimes, on the side, she took bounties from the local town of Goldshire. They often had issues with local bandits or kobalds, and sometimes the murlocs, and since she was able to fight enough to deal with minor threats, she took it upon herself. It helped make a bit of extra coin on the side and—

She desperately needed it.

Perhaps she and Alton were moving too fast, but she was almost certain that he was going to ask her to marry him. It seemed to be the direction they were heading, they spent a lot of time together, and he’d started telling her more intimate details of his work. She’d even had lunch with him and Anduin a few times. She liked the prince, he was… entirely opposite to what she had expected him to be. She had expected a posh little rich boy, spoiled beyond his years who looked down on everyone, if he’d even noticed the ‘common peoples’, as it were. But it was… he was… somehow amazing to her. Full of compassion and warmth, and he noticed everything about the common people, and he was always concerned about their living conditions, and about the healthcare they had access to.

Yet the stories of his father lingered in her mind. Was he really as awful, as heartless, as what she’d heard? She’d not met him, in fact she’d only seen him once and he’d been in a terrible mood she assumed and had been storming through the keep with a grey cloud over his head. At least, she hoped it had been a bad mood and he wasn’t always like that. It kind of… scared her, to think that type of person could be king. How could someone who didn’t care about their subjects be a leader? It made her angry to think about.

But, no, it was a nice day and she was enjoying the stroll on the way back from Goldshire. The weather was good, and she was due to have afternoon tea with Alton and the prince again. Considering her life to this point, Gwen felt as though things were working out for her; as if everything was falling into place.

She would head home first; drop off the plants she’d gotten and wash up, dress in something more appropriate. She hung her key up by the door with a scarf she wore when it was colder and dumped her bag on the living room chair. So much house for one person; she’d at first assumed the place would be too small, but it turned out to be too big. She spent such a little amount of time there, anyway, that she supposed it seemed bigger than it ought to.

An hour later, Gwen was making the trip up to the keep to meet with Alton. He’d greet her on the bottom steps, as he always did, take her arm, and escort her up to have tea. Tea. Gwen snorted to herself, locking her door behind her. There was a chill to the air, and she regretted not bringing a coat, and paused a moment, debating if she should go back in and get one. Yet she looked over her shoulder, feeling as if—

No one was there. Odd. She shuddered again and instead began walking quite briskly.

Gwen would never have thought she’d be the type to have tea with a royal guard with a prince at well, a palace. Her hands were calloused, often covered in burns, too. She was muscular, preferred ale to wine, trousers to dresses. She swore too much, she felt as though she came across as ‘uneducated’, especially around people like Anduin who was, well, she decided he was very intelligent. Her steps slowed. Alton was intelligent too, but in a different way. It seemed odd, her boyfriend—and she always felt weird about that term—lacked the confidence she’d assume from someone in his job. He was quite introverted while she was—well… Gwen supposed she was quite extroverted. Anduin? She hadn’t thought much about it.

She rubbed her hands to warm them up as the keep came in sight. Alton was stood at the bottom, his face lighting up as he spied her. 

And then, it happened.

The woman appeared from nowhere, flying towards her, and Gwen had assumed she may have been fleeing something until she felt something sharp rip through her abdomen. Her eyes locked with the womans for a brief moment, before the woman let her go and dashed off through the city. There were screams when others noticed the blood. Gwen pushed her hand against the stab wound, wondering if she were not delirious because she felt quite entranced by the oozing warmness—

Alton was rushing towards her. Did he always move so slowly? Or was it quick—she… Gwen gulped. Her head felt light, and her knees slowly gave away. Alton reached her as her knees collapsed and she slumped down, caught her head before it hit the ground. “Gwen!” He said quickly, lifting her into his arms without hesitation. She was lighter than it seemed she would be, or perhaps he was stronger than he thought but—

He went into auto pilot, yelling at other guards to chase after the would be assassin, and hurried her through the keep. Anduin could heal her, maybe he shouldn’t ask, maybe it wasn’t correct, but—but he couldn’t lose her, and oh, there was so much blood. Should there be so much? He’d seen crime scenes before, he’d seen a lot of bodies recently, but this….

He hurried her to his own quarters, yelling towards Anduin’s own room as he rushed past. The guards outside looked horrified and he heard Anduin give a start as he came out. Blood on the floor? “What-“

“Help!” Alton yelled, begged—he wasn’t sure, he was just frantic.

Anduin was surprisingly calm. He’d been studying for so long, he’d seen all manner of injuries in that time. Some he could save, others he couldn’t. A few times it had been his father’s life on the line, it was important to remain calm. The door burst open—Anduin heard Genn’s rough voice and Alton’s distressed explanations of some assassin, of seeing the person and Genn questioning what the woman looked like—

Instead, the prince focused on healing the woman. He watched her face, her parted lips and was struck at how… peaceful she seemed. Gwen was a fascinating woman, she always had stories to tell which were usually met with laughter; he knew it couldn’t all have been fun and games, she was essentially an orphan, and then she’d lost her adoptive father too. But he never heard her speak of anything bad. Was she a positive person? Anduin wasn’t sure, there was always something… that she just… left out from herself, he supposed. A part of her she kept locked aside. Alton hadn’t noticed it, he’d said as much when Anduin had asked if she’d just been nervous or was guarded, but Anduin noticed. It was there when she thought no one was looking, there in how she always placed herself, so she was aware of every door, every window, there in every time her eyes swept the room when she entered one. Was this why? Was she being targeted by someone?

Yet he was disgusted to find he couldn’t heal her wound. Why? He concentrated, his eyes dropping to her stomach and—“Genn,” he said quickly. 

“What is it?”

Anduin shook his head, clenching his fists. “She’s been poisoned. I can’t do anything-“

“What do you mean?” Alton asked quickly. “I’ve seen you cleanse poisons-“

“Not this one,” Anduin said heavily, his eyes meeting with the Gilnean king’s. Kingsbane. Neither of them needed to say it out loud. “I can’t do anything, she’s going to bleed out. I-I’m sorry, I can try but….”

“There’s no cure for it,” Alton said, his voice going hollow.

Genn looked troubled, heading to the door to hunt down Varian. This was getting out of hand; this house of assassins were too embedded into the people of Stormwind. They couldn’t question everyone, and people came and went so freely—they’d realised from the first guard who’d died from the poison that the message had been they were after the king and the prince. Security around the pair had been increased, but no other attacks towards them had been made. The killings made no sense, there weren’t any links between each of them. Some nobility, some members of the council, some tradesmen, even some farmers, housewives—there was no common factor between them all. It made it hard to predict who they’d go after next, even harder to guess their motives. This was the second time kingsbane had appeared; on the girlfriend of Anduin’s personal guard. Did that mean Anduin would be the first target? Or were they trying to make a point that no one was safe?

They were too good, Genn thought, they had to know inside information. The guard rotations were changed randomly since security was increased, but this was the first time there had even been a sighting. Genn paused, if it hadn’t been for the kingsbane he would have taken that as a sign the killer was different. No, this was deliberate. But why?

“Varian,” he said gruffly, at his side the moment he came into the throne room. Mathias was there—“You know.”

“Of course,” the king replied curtly, eyes scanning the throne room. 

“And she’s not been caught?”

“No,” Mathias said quietly, moving closer to the other king. They were keeping it quiet—but Genn wondered how long they could keep this string of murders, these… assassins secret. Was that why she’d been seen? Why it had been so public? Were they trying to make it publicly known? To put discord within the people? It would make sense, Stormwind was peaceful, it was happy and thriving. This would terrify them and show a weakness to the horde.

Was it the horde? Vol’jin was an honourable person, Genn thought, but his mind turned to Sylvanas. Was she behind it? Was she trying to make an opening? But that made no sense. None of it made any sense.

“There’s no sign of her,” Mathias said darkly. “The assassin vanished—the fact she was seen-“

“I thought the same,” Genn said quickly. “That it wasn’t linked, that this was too… amateur for these people, but-“ he breathed out and Varian looked at him. “Anduin can’t heal her. They used kingsbane.”

“What?” Varian frowned. “Again? And on someone so… random?” He’d not met this Gwen, just heard that Anduin’s guard had found himself a maybe wife. Mathias had found nothing bad about her, and so he’d been content enough to let her be within proximity to his son. It wasn’t as if she was dating his son or spending every waking moment with him. “And why her?”

“Perhaps they intend to go after Anduin next,” Mathias suggested quietly.

“I thought so, too,” Genn murmured.

“But not anymore?”

The worgen king sighed. “If I’ve learned anything so far, it’s that they don’t do what we expect. We can’t predict them. I think we’re just as likely going to find another farmer dead next.”

Varian couldn’t explain how angry he was, though he knew he shouldn’t be. They were doing their best, but how was it possible they didn’t have the information? They knew the organisation, and they knew one of the killers involved was a person who went by the name Briar. They knew this from the rifle shells they’d begun finding from vantage points within the city. She was probably not working alone, but very little else was known about them. They were a large network, they thought of themselves as a family, and it was said they’d had a hand in almost every huge political or significant murder within the past two hundred years.

“Wasn’t one of them caught a few years ago?”

“Yes,” Mathias muttered. 

“And did he say anything?”

The spymaster shook his head. “They got to him before we could. They’re good, Varian, very good. They have eyes and ears everywhere. It’s what makes them so terrifying. They could be anyone in this room.”

Varian’s eyes scanned the people and he moved closer; he trusted Mathis, and he trusted Genn. “You almost sound like you enjoy this.”

Master Shaw grimaced. “If so many people weren’t dying perhaps I might be, but our incompetency is becoming more and more obvious as the days wear on. I’d like to see the new victim, investigate the wound. See if there’s anything that can link the weapon and then the maker.”

Alton couldn’t believe it. She would die? It… it seemed impossible. His Gwen couldn’t die; she had too much life to her, too much—yet her hands were cold, and her body was still, her breaths laboured. Anduin was sat the other side, just staring at the wound as if trying to will it to stop bleeding. What an awful way to die, so slowly. Was she in pain? Why couldn’t he stop it? He should have—he should have been faster, perhaps if he’d noticed the assassin—his hands shook. That could have been Anduin, what good was he at his job if—if they could get this close, if—

“Look,” Anduin muttered.

“What?” Alton asked gloomily.

“The bleeding is slowing.”

Alton didn’t want to look. Did that just mean she’d run out of blood? That she was dead?

“Alton,” Anduin said, jumping to his feet. The chair he was sat on fell back with a loud clatter. “Look! I-“ he grabbed her hand. Relief. Perhaps he shouldn’t feel so relieved the girlfriend of his friend would be okay, but he reasoned he would feel this way for any person. He focused, instead, on healing her again. The poison was… there still but… her body was fighting it? How? He stared down at her in shock, finding he was able to reach out with the light and stitch the wound together and—“How is she able… to fight-“ he gulped, looking up at Mathias and Genn as they came in. “She’s alive.”

“How long?” Mathias asked.

“No,” Anduin shook his head. “She’s alive. Her body—it’s fighting off the poison.”

“That’s impossible,” Genn said simply, moving forward. “There’s no cure for kingsbane—” his eyes narrowed. “Who is she?”

“Lucky, I think she’s just incredibly lucky,” Anduin breathed, letting Alton have some space with her. His hands were covered in blood, and though he’d gotten used to it, this felt… it felt wrong to him. And that troubled him further. He didn’t want to admit to himself about the dreams he’d been having, where it was him and it was her, and there was no Alton. He didn’t want to admit that he’d begun looking at women at social gatherings and debating going off with one just to get her off his mind. It was wrong; she was not his, she would never be, but he wanted her to be—

The prince excused himself to clean up. 

“The one person who is probably immune to the poison….” Mathias murmured. “She must have gotten a good look at the person. They can’t be linked,” he stared at Genn. “I know you’re thinking that.”

“What?” Alton snapped, his eyes locking on them. This was a king, and a higher ranking official; he absolutely shouldn’t speak out of turn to them, but—“How could you think she’s involved in these killings? Or connected in any way? She was obviously killed because she’s close to me. Anduin’s right, she’s just lucky.”

Genn frowned, folding his arms. Maybe they were right; maybe he was too keen to see enemies everywhere. Mathias had researched the background of this girl already, right? And if Varian was content—he let out a sigh. “I apologise.”

Alton nodded, going back to watching Gwen. How could he think that in the first place? She was too loving, too sweet, too caring to be a murderer. And why would she get stabbed herself if so? She’d been alone with Anduin plenty of times, had slept in the keep more times than that; she’d had multiple chances to kill the king or the prince if so. She was, as Anduin said, just incredibly lucky. How her body was fighting it off he didn’t even want to think—perhaps it was something to do with her garden? Maybe one of the plants she always handled…? Or, maybe, this was why she’d been targeted. Maybe it was nothing to do with him.

“What’s the base of the poison?” Genn asked loudly, sniffing the air.

“Nightshade,” Anduin murmured, coming back in. His hands were clean now, yet he couldn’t get the feeling off them. “It’s hard to recreate, that’s why we can’t find an antidote to it. Nightshade is the base, but, it is for many poisons.”

“Explains that awful smell,” Genn murmured.

Alton watched her, holding her hand tightly. “Maybe that’s how she survived,” he suggested, looking up at all three of them. “She grows it in her garden, she always handles it without gloves. Terrified me the first time I saw it, but said she does it for years.”

Mathias moved forward. “She grows nightshade?”

The guard shrugged. “She likes how pretty it is, and she sells it to people.”

“What?”

Anduin sighed, staring at Genn sadly. Why was he so determined to see her as the enemy? “Nightshade is used as a basis in a lot of antidotes, and a lot of other alchemical medicines. It’s dangerous so people don’t like to grow it.”

“I know that,” Genn snapped, though sighed and relaxed somewhat when he realised. He was just… tense. These assassins had gotten away with so much, and they weren’t any closer to getting them. This woman was the only survivor, that they knew of, but it just didn’t sit right. Still, maybe he was jumping the gun. After all, who would actually want to poison themselves with a poison that, until now, no one had survived? “Is it possible she sold them to these assassins?” he suggested. “Maybe she knew too much.”

“And they want her out of the way,” Mathias murmured. “That would make her a target. Alton, was she acting strange at all?”

“No,” he frowned. “Not at all.”

Genn sighed. “Let’s go bounce ideas off each other with Varian,” he murmured to the spymaster. “Anduin, please get us when she wakes up she probably saw the face of the woman who did this, we also need to know if she knows anything else.”

“Of course,” The prince breathed out, staring absently at the woman. This was all such a mess,had she really been working with them, without knowing? The idea she could help produce a poison that was intended to kill him and his father unnerved him, but he doubted Gwen would have done it willingly. She was soft. She liked to fight but—but Gwen was no assassin. She wore heavy armour, she used swords to fight, she was heavy footed. Maybe she was connected in another way, or, maybe simply it had been to get to Alton.

As he watched his friend and personal guard, he let out a long, shaky sigh. No matter the outcome, this was going to shake him. Alton was going to constantly be worried about his ‘protection’, and not just of her, of him too. Being overzealous wasn’t always a good thing, Anduin thought. Perhaps he’d bring it up with his father later, he didn’t want Alton replaced, of course not, but, maybe, it would be a good idea to reorganise most of the other guards, to double protection not just for him and his father, but for the entire city. This was no game that was being played, these people were out for blood and they weren’t going to stop.

“Thank you,” Alton said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do-“ he shook his head and Anduin watched him, nodding, as he slowly moved to the window. He couldn’t explain it, how jealous he felt. This woman—he was infatuated with her because of how she looked… was that it? No, it was more. It wasn’t just that she was made of fire, it was—he was so used to women coming to him because they were told to, acting in certain ways because they were told to, because it was expected of them. Gwen? There was nothing about her which was forced; she was just herself, loud and unapologetically herself. A rush of wind in a still room almost. He’d always expected one day, one of the pretty girls in the pretty little dresses would interest him enough, but it never happened. He tried, very hard, to engage them all with the same enthusiasm he would give anyone, to try and converse with them, but they were usually uninterested or unable to keep up. The ones who could usually had their eyes on someone else, it often made him laugh. The women he wanted wouldn’t want him because they were too intelligent to actually want to be a princess. Who would willingly choose that life?

Gwen was unlike any woman he’d met, and so he supposed that was why he was so infatuated. That was it; nothing more. He liked the idea, the thrill of it all. Afterall, how could he basis any feelings on her when they’d only had light conversation, and never alone? He smiled to himself, glancing over at the pair of them. Love. 

The prince heaved a sigh and went back to staring out of the window. There would be other women like her, one of the women who approached him, one day one of them was going to amaze him so much he was going to entirely forget the woman of fire and the way his stomach screwed up when he saw her.


	5. Wrong Love

The thing about Spring in Elwynn, was that it rained a lot. Farmers loved it, but the girls in pretty dresses who would go to markets with their mothers would hate it. They would complain, loudly, while lifting the hems of their dresses to keep them from puddles, they would complain further that their hair was a mess, that their shoes were ruined. Briar blew a piece of wet hair from her face and scanned the crowd. At night time, when it rained, those girls stopped complaining. They used the darkness, the empty streets, to sneak off with men or other women that their parents would deem unsuitable, their complaints would turn to giggles that filled up alley ways, or busy taverns where no one looked twice at what was going on.

She slid into a side alley, watching two figures fumble around. The woman giggled, the man laughed, she heard a moan and then eyes locking with hers. "Shit-"

"What is it?"

The man let out an annoyed sigh and she heard him pulling his breeches back up. "Sorry," he muttered. "Let's take a rain check,I have buisness to attend to."

"But-"

He kissed her forehead and squeezed her upper arm. "I promise. Tomorrow."

The woman didn't seem to like the idea, she stormed off, before stopping in front of Briar. "Who are you?" She muttered, spinning to look at her boyfriend. "Who is she? Is this-"

Briar sighed, grabbing the back of the girl's shirt. "Haven't you been told loose ends are fucking messy?" Briar muttered.

"Arwh, come on, Bri, let her go," the main said, coming towards them. "She's just innocent."

"And unfortunately for you, she's also a witness."

The woman cleared her throat, remaining still. She wasn't stupid, this didn't sound like a conversation that was ending well for her. Just who had she gotten involved with? And why was he—her brows furrowed. Why did this man look like he wasn't going to do anything to help her? She struggled instead, trying to get to him, to plead with him. "George!"

"George?" Briar muttered, laughing. "That's the name you picked? How dull."

"Come on, this isn't funny."

"No, it isn't," Briar muttered, pulling a dagger from her belt to cut the woman's throat. There was a gasp, would have been a screamhad she not covered her throat, and, then when she was satisfied the woman would not call for help, she let her body fall to the floor. "Regrettably, you've been compromised."

"So that's it, is it?" George sighed, staring up at the sky. "Not my fault if Vass couldn't finish her off properly, izzit?"

Briar shrugged. "You could have tried to end it properly, she's been in that room for 24 hours."

"Yes," he said sarcastically. "With a guard."

"Guards are human, more so than most average people," Briar said, fingering the edge of her knife. "They need to sleep, he's mad with worry. The balconies are still empty, the windows aren't locked. Could have had two for one, Tybalt would have welcomed you back as ahero, brother."

George crinkled his nose up. "He would still have given the best kills to you."

Briar shrugged again.

"So, this is it, is it?" George asked. "Gonna throw that at me? Make it painful? Not even good enough to shoot me, huh?"

"I don't waste bullets if I don't need to. Besides, I'm taking a leaf from Vass' book this time. Your death is going to be quite theatrical."

She was crazy, that was all George could think. A manic glint in her eyes. She really wanted the kings head, didn't she? It was what she'd been raised for, ever since she joined them—he inhaled. This was their fault, they'd created this. He supposed he welcomed it, the family—it took a lot to stay with them, they asked a lot of you, blood, death, personal sacrifice. It was sad, he'd quite liked this woman, could have seen a proper relationship with her. What did it matter now, anyway? At least now he was out, and he found some relief in that he was never going to have to kill again, he was never going to have to take orders from Tybalt again, and anytime something went bump in the night, he was never going to worry it was Briar coming to finish him off.

"The plan is going to fail,you know," he murmured. "You underestimate human emotion too much."

Briar deadpanned him. "Emotions make you weak."

George threw his head back, laughing loudly as she approached him. Indeed, emotions made you weak. The first rule she had learned with the family, and the one she took most seriously. She underestimated people because of it; seeing their fury or their love as weaknesses, he supposed it wasn't the wrong idea, but she'd never experienced emotions like that. She couldn't understand their strength, and so she could never account for their effects. And, George decided as he closed his eyes fully accepting of this fate, it was going to be her downfall.

* * *

 

Alton sat awake with a start.

The window to his room flapped open and he hurried over to close it. It was morning, but the storm had lasted all night—he glanced over at Gwen, fast asleep in his bed. Who had opened the window? Had someone been in? He made sure to lock it, wondering whether he could find a way to lock it a second time. He'd been thinking all night about what he should do, and apart from keeping her locked up inside, there was no way to protect her.

She wouldhate it, but until the killers were caught, he wasn't letting her go. Perhaps she'd fight him, maybe yell at him, but she'd see in the long run, this was for her safety. This was for the best. Perhaps he could get Anduin to talk to her, to understand it was better. What did it matter if she didn't agree anyway, he wondered, what could she do in her current state? Fight him off? If he locked the doors, locked the windows, there was nothing she could do.

The door opened, and he looked up, hand going to his sword. "Your majesty."

"Is she awake?" Varian muttered, looking like he hadn't gotten much sleep.

"No," Alton said, looking down at Gwen. "Did something happen?"

"A local alchemist was found dead, strung up above his shop this morning. Poison," Varian murmured, crossing the room to stare down at the girl. "It was quite theatrical, Mathias said there were words painted in blood on the inside, all ofhis files of transactions were torn to pieces."

Alton breathed out. "Any idea why?"

"Mathias suspects this is the man who worked with the house of advent to buy nightshade from her. He's the weak link in this, after all. They cleared it up before we even knew who he was," Varian let out a deep sigh. "I need to talk to her, I want to know if she saw a face."

"She needs rest-"

"She won't need to do anything but talk," Varian muttered, glaring deeply at the guard. "Anduin was looking for you for breakfast. Go." When Altonhesitated he sighed, hardening his gaze. "No one will hurt her while I'm here."

The guard nodded, leaving slowly, and keeping his eyes on Gwen as he did so. The king could protect her, but it still made him uneasy to leave her alone. Another dead? So did that mean the killer had failed? That, they truly didn't know Gwen would be immune? Would they try her again? Or, would they just kill the killer who'd gotten away? If Gwen had seen her face... Alton breathed. This house of advent was truly dangerous, and it worried him. 

Varian watched her for a while, before he touched her shoulder. She awoke easily, and he wondered how long she'd been lying there. She'd wokenup a few times, he'd heard from Anduin how terrified she'd been, but how she couldn't remember anything. He reckoned the girl had blocked it all out, plus he was concerned at how Alton was being.

"Y-your majesty," She gasped out, pulling her covershigher. He would have laughed at her sudden dignity, she was injured, and here she was all sense of propriety. "What can I—where is Alton?"

"I made him get breakfast," he said shortly. "Do you remember the woman's face?"

"No—I mean... she wasbeautiful," Gwen murmured. "But I don't remember much else, it was too fast—she smelled good, though, like really strong perfume... like too much?" Gwen shrugged, wincing at the pain in her gut. "I'm sorry," she looked from him, worried he'd be angry.

Instead, Varian shook his head and gave her a small smile. "If you remember anything, please tell my son or I directly. These people have killed too many of my subjects, any information could help save another life."

Gwen paused, looking up at him. "You're not worried they're going to come for you or Anduin next?"

The king snorted and folded his arms. "Anduin, perhaps, but he's well guarded now. As for me... I'd like to see them try. I owe them a few deaths, don't you think?" He gave her a genuine smile, finding it quite amusing at how shocked she seemed to be. "My people are important to me."

"That's not what I was brought up to believe," She breathed out. "I mean, my father he didn't really have an opinion, but the friends I had-" she frowned.

"What did they say?" He asked quietly. He knew he wasn't always popular, but he had changed a lot.

"That you didn't care about the lives of the common folk at all," she spat the words out, as though they were the poison that still lingered in her body. It made her tired, but Anduin believed she was through the worst of it. Once her fever calmed down, the poison should have all been gone. "T-truthfully," She said, now looking at her hands. "Truthfully I blamed you for the death of my parents. I thought you were an awful person, that you didn't care for their lives. My birth parents, they were killed in Orcish raids, my adoptive father... he was sent to Northrend. The people around me told me their assignmentshad been suicide, that you ordered those groups into certain places—I didn’t know why...."

"What made you change your mind?"

"I didn't know that I had, truthfully," She said, looking quite surprised herself. "But Anduin he... truly cares about people. He's a good person. I don't think he could be that with a father who was supposed to be that evil."

Varian sighed. "There are certain groups who believe those types of things about me, I thought they were long since dealt with. I assure you, I value every life of every person under me. I would not gamble their lives away."

Gwen nodded. It seemed... strange, that everything was a lie now. Odd, wasn't it? How one person could change everything, how the perception she'd had of him had shaped so much and now-- she closed her eyes, feeling more exhausted than before. She heard him leave and was glad for it, even more glad that Alton did not return for at least an hour.

When he did, he fussed her, and when she heard his intent to not let her leave--

"You can't keep me locked in here," She said loudly. "I have a job-"

"I already went down there," he said firmly.

"You have no right!"

"I love you," he said, glaring down at her. "Stop being a petulant child, I'm doing what's best. I won't let them hurt you-" he grabbed her wrist, ignoring when she gasped in pain. "Keeping you here, it's the only place safe until they're caught."

"Alton," She sobbed out, trying to free her arm. "Please, you're hurting me-"

He let his grip go quickly and she snapped her arm back, rubbing her wrist. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m going to send breakfast up and Anduin to check on you while I go and get your things.”

Gwen sighed, scowling after him. Was he really going to be this controlling? He couldn’t keep her there, all she’d have to do was ask Anduin to help her—would he? She bit her lip, clutching the covers tightly. She understood he cared about her, that he was worried about her, but for all they knew she was dead, right?

The door opened and, she knew she shouldn’t, but she was visibly relieved when it was just the prince, and—“I brought your breakfast,” he said cheerily. “How is your fever?” He didn’t pause as he came over, giving her the food and putting his hand on her forehead. “It’s getting bet- are you okay? Your wrist is bruised.”

“Oh, I’m-“ Gwen frowned, pushing her food around the plate. Her wrist did hurt—funny, she was a strong woman, she did a lot of heavy lifting but—“Did you see Alton?”

“He looked angry,” Anduin murmured, sitting beside her. “Did he-“

“He didn’t mean to,” She cut him off. 

“Gwen,” he frowned. 

“He just-“ she sighed, shaking her head. “He’s just scared. He’ll calm down, realise his plan to lock me up in here is ridiculous.”

He let out a shaky chuckle, staring at her with worry. He was worried how Alton would take this, he hadn’t thought he’d go to this extreme, but—“If you need a dashing prince to rescue you, I’ll be here.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him. “I’ll remember that,” she paused. “I spoke with your father this morning.”

“Oh?” He watched her. It occurred to him they hadn’t often been alone, not like this, not for any length of time. Yet… he couldn’t explain it, how angry he felt. Alton had hurt her, whether he’d meant to, even if it hadn’t been a woman he was attracted to, he thought he would have been angry. It didn’t matter the reason, it didn’t matter that Gwen ‘understood it’, she was obviously upset by it. “How are you feeling, truly?” he asked. “Pain?”

“A little,” she said quietly. 

“Did you sleep fine?”

“I woke up a bit,” She admitted. “I had weird dreams.”

“That’s either the poison or the fever, maybe both,” he sighed. “You know my father won’t leave you alone, right? Even I must admit—you could be the secret to this poison, the antidote. If it’s just high concentrations of nightshade exposure….”

Gwen shook her head. “Maybe I just got lucky, Anduin. I handle a lot of different plants, not just that one. How can you even test it?” she chuckled, staring at him. “Poison someone and hope you get lucky?”

“Of course not. Eat, please.”

She sighed but did so anyway. She wasn’t feeling hungry, but she had to admit she felt much better after a bowl of fruit and some bread. The hot tea seemed to work wonders as well. “I heard George was killed.”

“Yes,” Anduin said quickly. “How did you know him?”

Gwen shrugged, staring out at the sky. The rain still lingered, the sky was grey, but the storm had mostly stopped at least. “He’s an alchemist, they’re usually interested in the plants I grow. I don’t like to waste cut offs, or plants I have too many of.”

“Was he ever untrustworthy?”

“Not that I noticed, but I saw him maybe once or twice,” she sighed. “I can’t believe that he might have supplied the poison… from my plants, it’s almost like-“

“It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. 

“Anduin-“

“I’m back.”

Anduin jumped, sitting back in his chair. He hadn’t realised he’d been moving closer; he shouldn’t. He absolutely shouldn’t.The prince cleared his throat and rubbed his neck as he spoke. “It looks like you’re moving in,” he chuckled.

Gwen grimaced. “Alton, really, I can go home. I’m fine-“

“No,” he said firmly, “It’s too dangerous.”

“If it’s dangerous there, isn’t it more dangerous in here?” she frowned. “With Anduin and the king? In the same building?” Alton didn’t reply, and Anduin wanted to point out that she was right but—the tension in the air stopped him. He had known Alton a long time, never had he thought he would be the type to be so easily angered. He was always so easy going, so in control and so calm, yet this—it was as though love had fundamentally changed him. Like it was some drug he’d taken too much of, and now he was unrecognisable, acting out of character.

“You’re staying, end of.”

“But-“

“End. Of.”

Anduin frowned; this wasn’t right. He hadn’t seen many couples outside of Genn and Mia, but this didn’t seem healthy to him. “Alton, maybe you should calm down. You’re worried and scar-“

“With all due respect, _your highness_ ,” Alton said, clenching his fists tightly. “But this is between my girlfriend and I.”

“Alton!” Gwen half yelled. “You can’t talk to him like that-“

“I can, and I will-“

“If you lay a hand on her I will have you removed,” Anduin said quickly, standing up when he’d seen Alton move towards her. “This isn’t you, get a grip! I’ll overlook you yelling at me, but I will not ignore you treating her with any disrespect.”

Gwen stared at him; she was right, Anduin was… good, pure—thoughtful and kind. He had no reason to stand up for her, yet here he was, going against a long time friend and bodyguard of his, all to protect her from someone who… was loving her wrong. All because he was scared.

Alton’s shoulders fell. He knew he was being overbearing, but—and it really was none of his business—“I’ll need to get more of your clothes in a few days,” he said, motioning to the bags.

There was no fighting him on this, was there? Gwen bit her lip. “Did you bring some books?”

“No.”

Anduin rubbed his forehead. Alton needed a break, he was in no position to guard him—he’d have to talk with his father about it, plus he wanted… to make sure Gwen was protected from him too. It seemed ridiculous, the idea you could love someone wrong. Was it even love? Yes, at some point it was, and now? It was just… it was fear. Nothing else to it. “I’ll bring you some up,” he said, straightening out his clothes as he went towards the door. “Anything in particular?”

She shook her head and offered him a small smile. He was sweet. Whoever wanted to kill him—she closed her eyes—they were wrong. Whatever their reason was, she was positive they were misled. Who could want to harm him? He wanted nothing but good things for everyone. And Varian seemed the same, too. She’d been mistaken, maybe these people were too.

* * *

 

Alton hurried through the streets towards Gwen’s house.

The rain hadn’t let up since the day she’d been attacked. The thunder and lightning had long since stopped, but there had been concerns about the canals flooding from the sudden water. The streets were emptier than he’d seen them in a long time. 

Things hadn’t gotten any easier. He’d argued with her a lot. She wanted to go home, and he didn’t want her out of his sight; after the king had halved his shifts protecting his son, he’d become worse, too. Now he had more time to watch her like a hawk. She was distressed being inside, she hated not being able to work—she’d yelled at him for it. How was she supposed to go after her dreams if she was stuck inside?

He’d almost done the unthinkable, he was certain had Anduin not come into the room, perhaps he would have hit her.

Alton barely recognised himself anymore. He knew none of this was right, that he was behaving awfully, but it just—it just happened. The right thing would be to stay away from her, but he just felt so… so obsessed with protecting her, with making sure she was safe.

Her home was still when he entered. He ignored everything, heading straight to her room to grab some more clothes. It was the figure in the window which made him stop. The person, a woman he thought, he could tell by how soft her silhouette seemed, had their back to him. Her hands were folded behind her back, and there was a rifle just to the side, resting against the wall.

“Took your time,” She murmured.

“Who are you?”

The woman turned, and he froze on the spot. This wasn’t the one he’d seen go after Gwen before, this was a different woman—and—he squinted, unable to properly make her out in the dark. He fumbled trying to find a source of light. “You’re ruining my careful plan,” she said. “Or you were, but I figured out how you can repair it.”

“Plan?” he asked.

“My plan to kill the king and the prince of course,” Briar sighed, bored with him already. He flicked on the light and she locked eyes with him. “My name is Briar.”

He said nothing, instead he stumbled back. He’d never seen someone so terrifying, so cold—there was no hesitation, just hatred and anger in her eyes. If he didn’t get out—oh he was such a coward. He turned and tried to un, but she was quicker, shot him before he could leave the room. “You-“ he gasped out, falling to the floor. “Why?”

Briar shook her head, her foot resting by his head as she peered down at his body.

He gasped, staring up as the light hit her face properly and he truly saw her. She gave him a smile, a cruel one he decided, one that didn’t fit a face so soft as hers. And, then, before he could think anything else, her foot came down on his head and he knew nothing else.

“Scum,” she murmured, returning to the window. She didn’t like when her plans didn’t work out—it was rare it happened, so rare she never had contingency plans in place, but, perhaps this ‘failure’, had worked out well. Outside, he town hall clock chimed, and she turned, picking up her rifle and leaving the room.

There was one more person she had to deal with, one last piece to clean up before the final phase of the plan could start. If they were up in arms about those she’d killed so far, Briar thought as she lifted her rifle and headed downstairs and out of the house, leaving the door wide open, then the death of Genn Graymane was going to cause an uproar. And, she hoped, he would pose a challenge. Her eyes met with a figures in an alley and she gave a curt nod, ducking into a house and locking the door quickly. Other members of the family were moving into the city bit by bit, and it seemed they were close to all being gathered. If she was going to change her plan last minute, she was going to have to act quicker.


	6. Caught

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Anduin awoke to beautiful sunshine and birdsong coming through his window. He lay there for the longest time, simply listening to nature and to the stillness outside. He enjoyed the rain, but after a storm for the longest time, it got a bit boring and it had a way of making his head feel busier than it ought to be, or rather, busier than he would have liked. He already had many things to do each day, so many things on his mind, he hated when some form of neuroticism would add to it. The ability to solve problems quickly was something he envied of his father. If Varian didn’t have at least a few ideas, he would often just work it out (physically) with Genn or one of his bodyguards, Mathias, or sometimes Aysa. Anduin was not much of a fighter, and though he found answers in the light, sometimes, prayer didn’t help at all.

His thoughts about Gwen were one of the things it didn’t help with.

He was a boy, a young man even, it was natural for him to want women, to lust after them. He’d seen many attractive women, he’d thought about many attractive women, but they were just thoughts, nothing more. He’d often not seen them after, not had time to befriend them or get to know them or form actual emotions for them. That was the difference here, wasn’t it? He actually knew Gwen, or at least, was starting to know her… and he wanted to know more. It was starting to drive him insane, the whole I want to but I shouldn’t.

There was a knock at the door and he lifted himself up on his elbows, his blonde hair falling around his face. He hadn’t realised how long it was getting, sometimes, he forgot his own age. Things had been so still since Garrosh, so… normal. 

“Son,” Varian said, looking more stressed than he had seen him in a long time. This recent string of murders had really been getting to him, to Genn, and to Mathias. The three of them looked older than he thought was possible, none of them slept, all too busy trying to get to the bottom of this. “Good, you’re awake.”

Anduin sat up now, eyes narrowed. “You haven’t been to sleep at all,” he said, noticing his father wore the same shirt from the night before.

“No,” Varian crossed the room to the window and stared out of it for a moment. “There was another killing last night, two, in fact.”

“Two?” Anduin said, now slinging his legs over the side of his bed. He scratched his stomach absently as he yawned, and the fact his father did not laugh at him was enough for the prince to realise this was more serious than ever. 

“Some person, we have no idea who he was—he’s not on any records here, looked to be an assassin himself—he had daggers, swords, and a reservation at a tavern. Left no name we can trace,” Varian sighed, turning to look at him. “The other was Alton.”

It was funny, Anduin thought, but he didn’t think the whole time stopping thing was actually, well, a thing. It was just something that supposedly happened, but here he was, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Hadn’t he, just a moment ago, been worrying about having feelings for his best friends' girlfriend and, well—he felt sick. 

“Son?”

“I’m okay,” he said quietly. 

“Are you?”

“No,” he admitted, shaking his head and closing his eyes. Alton was his friend, they’d known each other a very long time—Anduin couldn’t quite remember being without him. Somehow he felt as though it was his fault—“How? Where?”

“Gwen’s house,” Varian said, frowning. “When he went to get her stuff, she said he didn’t come back. I sent Mathias to look for him—you mentioned they’d been fighting,” Varian shrugged. “I thought nothing of it-“ he let out a frustrated sound. “This is ridiculous now.”

“Were they killed by the same people?”

Another shrug. “Honestly? We don’t know. All these killing’s feel too much to be the same person, especially when they don’t leave a trace. We know the name of one of their killers, one who is behind the majority of the killings at least. This is the only one that’s different, it wasn’t someone from the city.”

“So, you think they were killed by someone else?”

“Does it matter? It’s just two people at least to find,” Varian yawned, coming to sit beside his son. “I’m sorry, son.” He always took it hard when his friends were hurt, let alone—“I’m going to tell Gwen myself in a moment.”

“I’ll do it,” Anduin breathed out, wondering to himself why on earth he would volunteer for such a grim job. He supposed he did blame himself, as if his lust for her had brought around his death somehow. He felt sick—not just because—he breathed. Anduin clenched his fists, hoping his father didn’t notice.

“What?”

He did notice.

Anduin sighed, opening his eyes and staring pointedly at the floor. “I, uh, like Gwen. The past few weeks… all I’ve wanted to do is speak to her, find out more about her. I-I… thought of her in ways I shouldn’t,” he admitted, his cheeks rising in a blush. “I find her attractive-“ he stuttered out. “She’s my best friend’s girlfriend… I hated myself for it. Then seeing him get so… the way he treated her yesterday… part of me feels relieved.”

The king listened carefully, still savouring everything his son came to him about. It had been years since they’d had a major disagreement—in fact Varian couldn’t fully remember the time he’d come back and Anduin had been a stranger to him. They were friends now, best friends he hoped, and he was proud of his son. “That’s normal,” he said slowly. “If I saw the woman I liked treated like that by… well, anyone, even you, I might feel some relief if you, they, were taken from the picture. Does it make you a bad person? No… Anduin, you’re human. You can’t control how you feel-“ he stared at him sympathetically, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “That also means you couldn’t stop yourself from liking her. Anduin, it’s normal. It’s not like you had an affair.”

Anduin chuckled and shook his head. He couldn’t imagine himself going that far, yet—Alton was gone. How would he tell her? Would she be relieved? Part of her had to be, right? The way he’d been with her. 

“She can stay in Alton’s rooms for a bit longer, until she’s fully healed,” Varian said evenly, frowning in concentration. “Right now, her house is a crime scene anyway, so she can’t argue. Plus, she’ll be safer here, we don’t know if they’re still after her.”

“You think they were after her last night?” Anduin asked.

“Possibly,” the king admitted. “And Alton happened to walk in at the wrong time. We don’t know enough about these people to know if any other killings had been mistakes. We don’t know how calculated they are.”

“Any other ideas?” his son asked, busying himself by getting dressed. He wanted to help somehow but catching murderers—it wasn’t exactly his thing. However, maybe another perspective would do some good.

“None,” he sighed. “It’s serious, how many more people will they kill? We need to know more, to capture one of them if we can— but if we do… we have to question them quick. It’ll take a lot of work to keep them safe as a prisoner, and even then—Anduin,” he turned to his son, watching him pull on his shirt. “Anduin, you can’t trust anyone. There has to be people in the guard, how else do they know the rotations? They know the city layout, they know each guard post. Even after they were changed.”

“But then why didn’t they kill us yet? They’ve made no attempt on us.”

“That we know of,” Varian pointed out. “We know nothing about them. They don’t seem to be in the business of making mistakes. We’re going to change the guard up,” he said, standing up and heading to the door. “Get some entirely new people in slowly, we can see who the leak is maybe, but we don’t know if there’s even more within the new guards-“

To say he looked stressed was an understatement. Anduin gave him a sympathetic look, one which vanished when he remembered the job ahead of him. How was he going to tell her, that not only was her boyfriend and almost fiancée killed, but they were no closer to finding the culprits? “Is it just us?” he asked quietly, tying his long hair back. When he was younger, the prince had never seen much of his father in himself. They were two very different people, but now he was older... well, he looked a lot like him, and with his father becoming more patient and warm, he could see more personality resemblences, too. It wasn’t even just the changes in his father, he, too, had changed. He was, he didn’t want to say stubborn, but perhaps resilient, or single-minded. If there was something he truly believed in, he would stick by it no matter what. And the more these killings went on, Anduin was starting to feel less and less like you could always solve things by talking about them. Of course, he hadn’t truly believed that in a while; he’d grown up, matured since he was that child in Pandaria, but he would still try it first. But these people, whoever they were, they didn’t want anything, just to kill people.

It disgusted Anduin. Who on earth could enjoy killing so much? He’d heard a little of this Briar, the one who had done most of the killings; they didn’t know anything about them, male, female, age, where they came from—Anduin closed his eyes and sighed, listening to his father's leaving footsteps. He wondered, did they feel remorse? Any at all? He slowly walked towards Alton's room, his stomach screwing up with every step; how could he break her heart? This killer, they’d killed so many—surely, they weren’t so monstrous as to not feel a thing?

Gwen was dressed when he knocked on her door and entered. She was stood at the window, and he noted her hair blowing in the wind. He’d never noticed the soft curls before, nor how thick it was. He was so used to seeing her hair up, apart from the few occasions when he’d seen her in the early morning, after she--

His cheeks rose to a soft pink and he cleared his throat. “Gwen, I-”

“It’s okay,” she said quickly, and he noted tears on her voice. “I already know.”

“H-how? I-I mean, I-”

She shook her head and turned to look at him. “I overheard a pair of guards talking about it. How are you?”

“Me?” he asked incredulously. “You’re the-”

“You’ve known him longer than me, Anduin,” she pointed out, rubbing the tears off her cheeks. 

She seemed distant, he thought, distracted... dis... connected? Was that it? He supposed he would be, too, if his maybe fiancée had just been killed. His stomach roared—the jealous beast telling him to make a move, to comfort her—could he do that? Would it be okay? He didn’t want to try and fill a gap Alton had left, he didn’t want to be a replacement, but....

No, he decided, pushing away the thoughts of him holding her as she sobbed into his chest. That was not her—she was a strong and fierce woman, she was not suited to be crying into chests of princes or knights. 

“Father said you should stay here until you can go home,” he said quietly. “Feel free to take any books from the library.” Anduin stayed silent for a moment, before letting out a frustrated sigh. She was more like his father than him, she wasn’t going to work through this by reading or talking, was she? “Come with me.”

Gwen blinked, looking at him curiously. “Anduin?”

He thought about offering his hand, but instead headed to the door and opened it. “Come. I want to show you something.”

She bit her lip in hesitation, but followed after him anyway. She was healed, he was certain of that; she had been for a few days. He’d been taking extra caution when seeing to her. “He never hit you, did he?” he asked quietly.

“Alton?” she asked, her voice lower than his. “No. I think he thought about it.”

The prince inhaled. “He shouldn’t have trea-”

“Let’s not talk about that,” she interrupted. “People make mistakes.”

He stared at her; those weren’t mistakes, but... well, he supposed talking about the things Alton had done right or wrong wouldn’t help at all. It wasn’t like he could take back anything, was it? He sighed, wringing his hands together. They were mostly silent as he led her through the gardens of the keep, out of the back towards where the military gathered, towards the forge—he heard her inhale and he smiled softly, knowing there would be a look of wonder on her face. “Here, you always wanted to see it, right?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, looking as though she wanted to run towards it. Perhaps the only thing that was stopping her was the presence of Genn and Varian near the front. Anduin wondered what they could possibly be doing out here, looking rather like two people who didn’t want to be overheard--

They really didn’t trust anyone in the keep, did they? He supposed Mathias would be around too. 

“Father, Genn,” he greeted.

The two kings stopped talking instantly. “Son,” Varian said in surprise, though when he saw the woman behind him, walking somewhat slowly, he realised. He knew she was a blacksmith, perhaps this would be good—to work out her problems. “It’s empty inside,” he said. “Take advantage of it.”

His son laughed softly.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Genn said to the woman, watching her curiously. His nose prickled; she still smelled of nightshade, of the earth and vaguely like nettle tea. Like rain, too, he thought. Not surprising, everything smelled of rain these days. He stared up at the sky with a frown. There was a storm coming, he could feel it prickling his skin.

She bowed her head to him but said nothing and vanished inside of the building. He watched as Anduin stared after her, looking very lost at what he was supposed to do. “Go be with her,” Varian murmured, and Genn listened more. He knew they were friends, suspected the prince had feelings for her, but—well, when was love ever not messy?

Anduin was content to watch her silently most of the morning. Firstly, she looked around a lot—she would comment, talking quite fast, on some of the things she found, wondering how she could add her own style into it, or even finding other things she could add into her own style. Then, when he suggested she make something, he watched as she worked. She was so focused, so methodical about it—she never took her eyes off the steel in front of her, even as she tied her hair back. A few strands fell in front of her face, and she would frequently blow them from her face.

The passion she had, it did something to him. It made his heart warm, it made him want to walk right over there and kiss her, tell her that she was amazing and that he was utterly, and totally captivated by her. But the thought of Alton, the thought of everything she must be feeling, it stopped him.

“You’re very quiet,” he pointed out, moving to the window to get some air. It was hot, he was surprised she could stand the heat, it didn’t seem to bother her at all. He almost laughed when she rubbed soot on her face accidentally, while pushing hair from her face. 

“Sorry, I just...” she trailed off and turned her back on him, focusing on something else. He had no clue what she was making, maybe it was nothing, maybe just keeping her hands busy helped-- “Have you ever...” she sighed. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“Have I ever what?” he asked, curious. “You can tell me anything.”

“Can I?” she asked quickly, looking at him. He was shocked at the look on her face, one he’d never seen before, one he didn’t understand. She looked confused, puzzled, and... and there was something else. He shuddered, eyes trained on her as she looked back around. “Have you ever done something and later wished you hadn’t?”

The prince blinked a few times, his blue eyes growing more and more curious. “Of course, hasn’t everyone?”

“What did you do about it?”

He couldn’t quite decide at why she was asking; surely, she’d been in the same situation before? Maybe it hadn’t worked out. Maybe she just wanted a second perspective, though he wasn’t sure what he could suggest if she wasn’t going to tell him the details. She wasn’t in trouble, was she?

“I tried to do whatever I could to fix it,” he said simply. “If that didn’t work, I spoke about it to someone I trusted,” he moved towards her. “You can trust me.”

Gwen inhaled, looking up at him. He was only a bit taller, but—could she tell him? “Anduin, I-”

“Yes?”

“I-I-” her mind went blank, and she cleared her throat, moving from him. “I’m worried... who is going to protect you?” she didn’t look at him and he could hear her crying again. His heart broke; had something happened with Alton that he didn’t know of? Something she wanted to fix that she now couldn’t? To be crying so much—this wasn’t her, he knew that. Hadn’t that been why he brought her down here? He felt so powerless! And it made him angry, made him want to find whomever caused this—Anduin clenched his fist tightly, finding it odd how much he really wanted to hit something right then. Perhaps he wasn’t so different from his father. “They got both of your guards, it’s obviously you they’re coming for first.”

“I have-”

“People to protect you?” she looked up at him sharply, and surprised him by crossing the room back to stand in front of him. “You don’t seem to understand--” she shook her head. “They already went through them, with no effort! Anduin, you have to protect yourself. Don’t try and talk to them.”

“But-”

“Anduin,” she hissed, bending down and pulling, to his surprise, a dagger from her boot. It was intricate, yet simple. Had she made it? The blade was slightly curved, and the handle was embossed with leather that looked very worn. “Take this.”

“W-what, I have my own-”

“Anduin,” She said firmly, pressing it into his hands. “Please take it. It was the first thing I made of any quality,” she whispered. “It’s the only thing I remember of my mother, she had one similar... I tried to remake it from memory.”

“I can’t take-”

“Yes,” She breathed out, leaning closer. “Anduin, you have to.”

He stared at her, before nodding. If it made her feel better-- “You didn’t strike me as the type to have a dagger in your boot.”

Gwen chuckled and moved from him, watching as he fastened it to his belt. “Daggers aren’t my preferred way to fight, but I can’t exactly walk around the keep with a sword, can I?” she gave him a rueful smile. “Anduin, I-”

The door opened and she jumped back from him. 

The prince let out a sigh, masking his frustrated expression as he turned to look at the workers. They looked puzzled for a few moments, before they bowed to him. Anduin shifted uncomfortably and looked back towards Gwen. What had she been about to tell him? It was odd, he thought, she’d been so vulnerable and so open with him but it was gone. She was already cleaning up and finishing up—discussing something with one of the other workers. As if nothing had happened. “Gwen,” he said quietly. “Would you join me for dinner later?”

She looked at him surprised, and another look he didn’t understand came over her face. It seemed sad and yet inevitable. Her bottom lip stuck out and he could see her chewing the inside of her cheek as she wiped her hands off. Why did he suddenly feel like he should hold onto her hand? As if she was going to vanish if he didn’t. A lump formed in his throat and he gulped it down. “Please?”

Gwen let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Anduin, I don’t think I could deny you a thing,” she said so quietly he was positive he wasn’t supposed to hear it. The way she had said it, like it was a death sentence for her. He didn’t understand that; it wasn’t like he was going to ask her to jump from a cliff. “Of course.”

“Great,” he said, pushing down the anxiety he was suddenly feeling. “I’ll come and get you tonight. Unfortunately, I have some work to take care of. You will... be okay alone?”

“Sorry to interupt,  your highness,” the forgemaster said coming forward. “But this is mighty fine steel. May I borrow your lady friend for a while?”

Anduin chuckled at her surprised expression and held his hands up. It would be good for her, to distract her from whatever was on her mind; was it just Alton? He couldn’t think what else it was—yet she was so strange, worrying about his safety. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, watching her get stuck into work. He paused at the door, watching her for just a moment, before he turned and left. 

\--

Genn swirled his glass of wine and let out a deep sigh.

It was late, and he was kept up by so many thoughts of so many things. Especially the assassins. Assassin. Oh, he didn’t know! The house of advent, he knew them. Or, of them. They were the best assassins in the entirety of Azeroth; even the uncrowned, even SI:7 found it hard to get information on them. They were very old, supposedly having a hand in every unanswered killing in the past few hundred years. They'd never gone after political leaders though, no kings, no princes—it had just never been their... ambitions. Well, obviously that had changed.

He thought.

The one record they did have of them, was from about 75 years ago, when they last tried to kill a king. It failed, miserably, and their leader was apprehended and due for a very public execution. It never came, though, the rest of the assassins killed him just as he was about to be hanged. Since then, they’d never gone for anything as big as this—well, that he knew of.

What did they want to gain from this?

Genn sipped his wine and then put it down, yawning.

He should sleep. Wake up and carry on trying to figure this out. What was the point though? Every time he thought he was getting closer... Genn growled, inhaling deeply and then-

The worgen king froze.

That scent. It was new.

He glanced down to his wine, watching the reflection play out. The dagger moving closer. “Not good enough to shoot?” He jumped, turning and pinning the—man?-- down. Wasn’t the assassin a woman? The one who had attacked Gwen, the one named Briar—he was certain that was a woman... unless he was mistaken?

“Who are y-” he jumped b ack when the sound of a gun click filled the air and the man below him died.

A second click.

Genn moved and his wine glass shattered off the table.

This was his chance—he was going to catch them.

He yelled for a guard outside the room to come in and deal with the mess as he shifted into his worgen form and sprung out across the roofs. The figure was quick, female for sure,  he could smell the perfume on the air. Thick, as if it was trying to mask something. His nose burned but he hurried and hurried. The assassin’s clothing snagged as they did their best to escape him, in fact, Genn thought for sure he would catch them. But, then, they jumped straight into the canals. He should follow, he thought, but amongst the back alleys and silent night streets they had an advantage of civilians. Genn snarled down, watching the figure until they vanished from sight, and he stood back up and turned towards where the clothing had snagged.

A tiny piece of cloth was left, and he lifted it to his nose and inhaled.

\---

Varian couldn’t remember the last time he had breakfast with anyone who wasn’t Genn or Anduin  but it was quite refreshing, well, he supposed it would have been. Gwen was very quiet though, dressed already as though she was going out somewhere. A date with his son, perhaps? He snorted, dating would include being in the palace. He also doubted his son would call it a date, and then—why did she look so somber?

“How are you?” he asked quietly. Alton. He sighed, shaking his head.

She gave him a strange look, sitting straighter than he thought he would ever see her. In fact, something felt different.

The door opened and he looked over to see Genn and Mathias striding in, both looking very...  business. “Can’t I even eat before the day begins?” he groaned.

Genn’s lips twitched up as though he was going to laugh but didn’t. “Anduin is at the cathedral, yes?”

“Yes,” Varian frowned. “Why?” He turned to Gwen. “I’m sorry about this-”

“I’ll stay,” she said quietly.

“Yes, you will,” Genn snarled.

Varian watched in confusion as Mathias clapped handcuffs on her, she didn’t even protest and--- the hatred in both of their eyes. “What?”

“There was an attempt on my life last night,” Genn said simply. “I went after the shooter. I found this,” he said, holding up a strip of cloth. “It stunk of nightshade and gunpowder. Just how you smell, Gwen. Is that your real name?”

She watched him, no expression on her face that Varian could tell. Surely this wasn’t-- it couldn’t--but he trusted Genn and--

She said it herself; she blamed him for her parent's death. It was motive.

“It’s my name,” she said simply. “Gwen Briar.”

Varian felt cold. Briar.

But it couldn’t. Not the whole time, she had—and they had—but—so many questions—and Anduin and—he felt angry. Livid. He wanted answers, no, he was going to demand them! Yet, something nagged at him, something in the back of his mind—she could have killed them at any point, she’d lived within the keep for enough time now. She’d been alone with Anduin enough, had access to the kitchens, access to both while they were sleeping. So why hadn’t she? And why would she stay here and not run if she knew Genn had caught her?

“Well, then Gwen Briar,” Mathias said, pulling her to her feet. “You’re under arrest for the assassination of at least fifty citizens of Stormwind. Do you deny these crimes?”

Varian hoped, he leaned forward, hoping sincerely it was a mistake. Anduin had bad taste in friends, but there was no way he could befriend an assassin... could he? He groaned inwardly. His son could, and he had, and—and Anduin had begun falling for this woman, this--

“No. I don’t,” she said simply, closing her eyes. “But I would keep it quiet if you want answers,” she added quietly. “If they find out I’ve been caught I won’t survive the next hour, let along enough to be able to give you anything.”

“Then you will cooperate with us?” Genn asked, sounding shocked himself.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Yes, I’ll tell you everything.”


	7. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo sorry it's been so long, BFA! The race to 120 and getting geared is real man. But the story--! Oh man, it made me write about Eryn again so I'm wondering whether to edit those I've been writing and post them too! This chapter isn't... so great, it's short so you don't have to sit through the terribad for so long! I should update the Chantari piece sometime soon too!

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The odd footfall into a puddle of water heavier than intended, breathing, the rattling of chains around the lone woman's wrist as she was led along, accompanied by three men. Silence other than that. Had she been in her right mind, Gwen would have noted the paths and turns they'd taken this deep in the stockades, but she'd long stopped paying attention. This was no part of the city or stockades she knew, this belonged to the deeper part that no one ever went. If she didn't know it, no one else did. It was the safest place to talk.

Anduin would be heading back about now, she thought, biting her lip, her head bowing lower a she followed behind the spymaster. What would he think? Would he be told? She couldn't imagine his judgement, his fury... and she deserved it, she knew she did, but she didn't revel in it. Funny, she thought, remembering back to George's words on how human emotions would be her downfall. Here she was, about to spill everything because she'd gone soft to one human boy who was so brilliant and made of what seemed to be starlight. She'd underestimated how strong those feelings were, and it had ruined her.

Varian lingered behind her, eyes trained perfectly on her back. He never let up, she could feel his gaze but never turned to see his expression. Fury? Disgust? Or worse, disappointment? Surprisingly, Genn was the most impassive of the three. He seemed to regard her with a curiosity as he walked beside her. If she stumbled in her footing, he caught her, and once or twice she'd looked up to see pure confusion on his face. He didn't understand.

Gwen sighed. Neither did she.

"This is far enough," Mathias announced. He moved to a door way and checked into the next set of tunnels, and when he was content it was fine, lit the few torches in the room they were in. Then, he lent against the wall, arms folded and eyes intent on her. 

"Sit," Varian said gruffly. He didn't know how he felt. Gwen Briar. Was it really true? He watched her, wondering what was going on; was she being blackmailed? Taking the fall for someone else? And... how had no one known? Perhaps, most importantly, why did she seem so broken? As if she'd given up? He could feel no duplicity, not even any hesitation. What had brought her to this place? She was Anduin's age! He couldn't imagine his son-- the king let out a deep sigh as Gwen sat in the middle of the room, Genn lingering over her. Varian's hands messed up his hair for a moment. "From the beginning."

The red head nodded, sighing softly. He noted her shaky breath, the way she clutched her hands. "I entered Stormwind, on the fifth two months ago," she whispered. "We have-"

"No," he interrupted. "The beginning."

Gwen looked up, eyes narrowing. "Sir?"

What was he doing? Varian knelt in front of her, trying to read her. She would tell the truth, he knew it. "How did you come to this?"

Oh. Gwen closed her eyes in understanding. From the very beginning. She let out a harsh chuckle, eyes snapping open to bore up into his. "What if I tell you I chose to become this?"

"I wouldn't believe it," he replied simply.

"Why do you care?" she asked out, voice straining. "What does it matter why?"

"It matters a great deal," Varian murmured, rubbing his chin. "Speak."

Gwen let out a deep sigh, thinking back. Memories she hadn't touched in years-- did he really want to do this? She clenched her hands. "Okay," she whispered out, eyes flickering to Mathias. "What do you know about the House of Advent?"

"They are a group of skilled assassins' that have had a hand in almost every political upheaval in the past few hundred years," the spymaster replied, watching her impassively. He would give nothing away. "They train their recruits internally, share their secrets with no one else. They call themselves a family."

"That's all?" she frowned.

"If we knew more," Genn said. "We would have been able to act quicker."

"With all due respect, you'd need to turn back time," she looked up at him, then back at the king. "We've been embedded into this kingdom for a very, very long time. I don't even know the full extent. The family is large. The head is Tybalt," she let out a harsh laugh. "He oversees everything, gives every order, approves every initiate. The immediate family is just a small part; we're the elite of us, the best of the best. There is... somewhat of a hierarchy within us. My older sister, Lila, used to be top dog."

"Used to?"

Gwen's eyes shot to Mathias and she gave him somewhat of a sarcastic smile. "Then I came along."

"And how-"

"I'm getting to that," she snapped, then, slowly, she sighed. "Sorry."

Oh, Varian had no idea what to do, what to say, what to think. Instead, he resolved himself to remaining silent. It seemed... difficult for her. Did he want to hear this truly? He reasoned that, with any criminal, they would have a trial. She couldn’t have one, they’d know, they’d kill her before they could. He paused. Was that what he intended? Killing her? His mouth went dry and his jaw clenched. She’d plotted treason, the answer to that was death. 

It was funny, he’d trusted the wrong people before, but this... and why was he hesitating and second guessing? Because he didn’t want to have to tell Anduin she was never coming back? Because she was the same age as his son? Part of him felt... fascinated, too, he had to admit. How they’d managed to do so much, he wanted to hear it all.

"The next level aren't assassin's, but accountants, advisors," she paused at the word. "Some hold property in the land where we can hide our wealth. The crown would notice us otherwise, we keep it very careful. You would never find us from tracing funds or supplies. Tybalt is very good at keeping us hidden, and he only employs the best to ensure we stay that way. Beyond that there's the extended family. I never meet them, I don't know how many there are, but they infiltrate guards, and into other social hierarchies. They're our eyes and ears."

"How many are in Stormwind?" Mathias asked.

"I don't know," she said simply. "I killed three, and one member of the inner family myself. There's plenty more. Your upcoming guard rotations will be infiltrated, the new guards from Westfall too-" She paused, then looked down at her lap. "And beyond that you have the," she paused. "Recruiters, I guess," she snorted at the word. "Did you ever hear of Lady Scarlett Spicks?"

"No," Varian muttered. "Should I?"

Mathias cleared his throat. "She was a very successful owner of numerous brothels, Varian. She was known for having the best girls, and catering to any tastes you could imagine. She died, quite horribly, about fifteen years ago, in Ironforge."

Gwen's lip turned up. "She was Tybalts sister. The whore houses were just ways to hide her true business of human trafficking."

"Don't be absurd," Genn muttered. "We would know-"

"If a whole system of buying and selling humans happened under your noses?" she looked up at him defiantly. "Call me a liar if you will, but I can prove it."

"How?"

"All her merchandise was marked."

Varian paused. "And you were merchandise."

"Yes," she said quickly, looking away. "My mother and father both suffered during the fighting of the Third War, they were old and poor and relied on drugs to keep their demons away from them. Eventually they couldn't afford it so they traded me."

Genn and Varian looked at each other, disgust growing within both. What kind of parent could do that to their child? Their only child?

"I was an ugly child, an even uglier teenager," Gwen carried on. "But there were always people who didn't care. She hated me, that woman, I was the one who answered back, the one who fought back," she let out a sharp sound and Varian realised he was trying not to cry. He wondered if this was the first time she’d been truly open with someone? She was talking so willingly, but he wondered if she could even stop—even if she would die soon... perhaps she felt relief that she was finally getting it from her chest. He clenched his hands. 

"Tell me," he said quietly, staring at her intently.

"No."

"Tell me."

"No," she said out, the sobbing breaking through her voice. "You are already disappointed in me, Varian, I couldn't add to it-" she looked away. "I can't... don't make me say it out loud, I-" She shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing. "I don't... think about this stuff. I keep it locked away, I use it as fuel to survive because I couldn't ever go back there. One time, she expected me to go with this man I hated. He smelled of garlic and he had this horrible facial hair-" she trailed off, looking very much as though she was seeing the garlic man in front of her. "I wrapped my hands around her neck and I tried to choke her. Her bodyguards came in, but... I was a street rat, I knew how to steal and I was good at it. I stole one of their daggers. I killed all three of them. I remember standing over her body, my hands covered in blood. I didn't have any regret-" she looked up at the king, a fire in her eyes. "I would do it again. She deserved it. But I felt nothing. It didn't make things any easier. Instead I just worried what I would do now, where would I go? Would I find my parents? To see if they were okay? I didn't even know if they were alive, or if I blamed them... I didn't get to decide anyway. Tybalt was visiting. He heard the commotion and--" she sighed. "He as very pleased with my answer when I said I felt nothing." Gwen's fingers dug into her knees. "I went with him when he promised to keep me safe. I trusted him... I'd never seen him touch a woman whenever he came over, he was always kind to the children. Plus, there was this beautiful woman who always went with him everywhere... she was looked after, and wore nice clothes, and... she didn't look weak. I wanted to be her. If I went with him..."

Gwen fell silent, moving her arms and causing the chains to clank slightly. A dripping from somewhere, but no one else said anything. "I became her. I became her and more. I was his favourite. I was determined to survive, to be the best-- it didn't matter what torture he put me through... I mastered every training. I excelled in that world. If I failed he punished me harder than the others so I learned quickly not to fail."

"I don't believe it," Mathias said simply. 

"No?" she turned to him, abruptly lifting the sleeve on her left arm right up to her shoulder. In the torch light it was faint, but he was able to make out scars and what seemed to be a tattoo of a rose. "The briar rose. Scarlett's mark. It wasn't this pretty when I got it-" she snorted, pulling her sleeve down. "I had it covered to at least look nice."

"And you took the name to remind yourself of where you didn't want to end up," Genn said slowly. "Not again."

"Yes. I was conditioned, fine tuned into the ultimate weapon. He told me my parents ended up the way they did because of you," she whispered, staring at Varian, then her eyes flickered down. 

"Do you know what happened to them?" Varian asked painfully.

"No," she replied quickly. "I forgot them. They were a fantasy in my mind, just..." she shook her head. "Emotions make you weak, vulnerable. I had no emotions. But I've never experienced love. I thought it made you weak, I thought it made everyone around me weak. Those who cared for other people-" she inhaled. 

"Tybalt has it in for Mathias," She carried on, abruptly stopping from her previous topic. "I don't know the details. No one does, I think. But he wants to bring you down," she looked over at him, then at Varian. "Decided the best way to do that was to disgrace him. To have his king and prince die without him able to do anything, to have his city burning until he begged for the end."

"I would never," Mathias muttered.

"You wouldn't?" she raised an eyebrow, a tone of disbelief. "I know people, Mathias, and I know that's a lie. Their deaths would have destroyed you, whether you let on or not."

Varian shook his head; he didn't care. "And you were to kill us?"

"Yes," she muttered. "It was a huge plan, everyone was involved. He had me enter the city with my uncle-- he didn't know that he was going to die. He knew the cover story was he was the friend of my 'adoptive father'... but he was a lose end, he had a big mouth. I killed him and I felt nothing-" she looked disgusted with herself. "I knew Alton before I'd come to the city. I planted myself where I knew he would be. I knew the type of woman he wanted. I learned that from my sister, Vass," Gwen sighed. 

"And did you love him?" Genn asked.

"No, I couldn't stand that man," she replied, looking away.

"So, the plan was to get close to him to get close to my son?"

"No," she answered quickly. "An-Anduin was... he was never part of the plan that way," she said, her voice weak and laced with pain. He heard it, and realised why it had all changed. His son had become important to her, hadn't he? "Alton was a way for me to get maps, to get guard rotations, to find routes through the keep. I had access to everything I wanted, even your offices."

"You were... in there?" Varian frowned.

"Yes," she chuckled, looking proud of herself. "You fall into a deep sleep from half three until four then you wake up with nightmares-" she watched his face fall stony. "You also keep your window unlocked and there's no SI:7 agent inside all the time. I only needed that half an hour each day." She paused. “Master Shaw, the agent who usually guards the king is quite...” she paused, glancing at him significantly. "I don't know for sure he’s a member of the family, but I know we have them within SI:7.” She watched the colour drain from his face as the weight of that statement dawned on him, and then, he cleared his throat. He would deal with that later, and quickly, they had to finish thi sup.

"What of the other deaths?" Mathias asked.

"Discord," she said simply. "We wanted people to stop feeling safe in the city. To just... take away this peace. There're no contacts in times of peace, or... relatively fewer than before. Originally I was supposed to use my skills as a blacksmith to impress you-" she snorted. "But look what happened... I met Anduin-"

"And you grew to care for him."

She let out a pitiful sound, giving herself a sarcastic smile as she bowed her head. Crying, he thought, watching her shoulders shake. "How could someone so pure and so good be the son of someone who was supposedly so hateful?" she let out. "He showed me warmth, kindness... he was easy to be around. When I got Vass, my sister, to stab me that day I didn't... expect him- I woke up... and he was sat there, asleep, holding my hand-- I thought it was Alton but it was him-" Gwen sobbed out. "I knew then that I couldn't do it. Not him. I didn't know what came over me, but all I wanted to do was protect him, even if I had to kill everyone else."

"Why didn't you ask for help?" Varian asked, voice strained. He felt for her-- it didn't excuse what she'd done, not at all, but.... but compassion was sometimes needed. That was what Anduin would say, wasn’t it? 

"I almost told Anduin," she said weakly. "Yesterday. I killed Alton to start with, I knew he would get in the way. I hunted down a few others in the family within the city that night. Any loose ends. One of them was planning to expose me-" she snorted. "I found him writing a note to King Greymane."

"And then you decided to kill me," he said quietly.

"Yes. I was worried you would find out, that I couldn't explain and that no one could protect Anduin-" she gaped out. “But when I took the shot I just realised I couldn’t do it—I saw the other assassin and I took him out. By then you were alerted to me... I thought I was smart, masking my scent with perfume.”

“It was smart,” Genn muttered. “But nightshade stinks, and gunpowder even more so. You are the only one who smells like that.”

Gwen’s jaw went tight. “So there you have it.”

Varian sighed. “You mentioned a girl—Lila?” She looked up at him. “What happened to her?”

“Nothing,” Gwen said simply. “She’s still a member. She’d be the one to kill me if Tybalt gave the order-” she snorted, looking amused. “I would be offended, the one I beat out to be the best... but she’s the one with the grudge, well, the strongest grudge. I haven’t seen her in a year or so, she stays away from the household. Last I heard she was trying to find a way out of the family.”

“And is there a way?” Mathias asked.

“Of course,” she said, turning to look at him. “Death is a way out of everything.”

Silence.

So what did they do? Varian sighed, dragging his hand down his face. If they put her in jail she would be killed before the door was locked. “If you die the plan still goes ahead?” he asked.

“Of course,” she muttered, looking down and feeling sick.

Genn stared at Varian, trying to figure out where this could go. If this was Tess, or a girl Tess’ age... he would have hesitated too. The king looked over at Mathias and cleared his throat, then looked back at the girl. “What fate do you think you deserve?”

Gwen barked a laugh. “Is that serious, your majesty?”

“Yes.”

She sighed and shook her head, her fiery curls falling about her face. “I deserve to die, don’t I? The punishment for treason is death. If... that is to be my fate,” she gulped. “I request you let me go with my rifle. The family will come for me to kill me themselves. I’d take out as many of those bastards as possible.”

Varian nodded, sighing as he pushed himself to his feet. What was he doing? He should kill her, on the spot. But she was telling the truth, and he could see the guilt eating at her as she sat there. She was feeling every murder she’d ever committed, and he knew she would never accept herself for doing it. Perhaps it would be good. If she stayed alive it would be a reminder to be a good person, to get better, to protect the things she loved not to hurt the things she hated. “You will not die,” he said simply. “We are blind in this, killing you does nothing. It creates more pain. Instead you will be a double agent.”

“My king?” Mathias asked, moving forward. 

“I trust her,” Varian replied, glancing at him, then at her shocked face. “Mathias will guide you through SI:7 protocols. You’ll handle information directly with him, myself, and Genn. Nobody else. Clear?”

Gwen gulped down, shaking her head. “Why are you not killing me?”

“Because you can do some good to try and right these wrong’s,” he said simply. “And because I couldn’t hurt Anduin that way.”

She looked away, eyes clenched. What was she going to tell him? Anduin would... someone so pure, so gentle, who hated death and violence. He’d be disgusted by her, ashamed. Her heart fell into her stomach and she gulped down the bad taste forming. It didn’t matter, she decided, he didn’t have to like her, she just had to keep him alive. He deserved better than her, she knew it.

“We need to come up with a plan to strike back,” Varian carried on. “You have information on where they are, on the leader himself. They won’t expect it.”

Gwen shifted anxiously, looking up at him. “You have a contract,” she whispered, it dawning on her what he was truly planning. Of course, who else could get close enough to Tybalt? She closed her eyes, trying to find amusement in the irony, but there was nothing. 

“Deal with this Tybalt and help us stop the House of Advent’s attempts on my people, my son, and myself, and your crimes will be absolved. You will be free to stay in the city-” he broke off when he watched her. She was making no sound, but he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. He was startled that he’d illicited such a reaction from her, but reminded himself that before Anduin, she didn’t seem to have anyone who had truly cared for her. She’d probably expected yelling and torture, anger, fury, hatred. Varian shook his head. He’d had enough of that. Times were peaceful, it was time to keep them like that.

“And... Anduin?” she asked out eventually, as the king turned to leave. 

Varian paused. “Will not be told unless you choose to,” he said simply. “Or if the situation demands we must tell him.”

Just like that? Gwen shook her head, trying to clear the busy thoughts out from it. It was dangerous, being a double agent—if anyone found out she was passing information from inside the family... it wouldn’t be a swift death they would give her. But to be able to stay in the city, to protect something so precious—something that didn’t have to hate her just yet—it was so much more than she deserved. More than she’d ever expected. She would tell him, eventually, after the whole situation was cleared up. When he was no longer in danger, when it was safe to leave his side, she would tell him, she would take his scorn, his disappointment, and his disgust. It was all she deserved.

Yet, she thought, as Mathias undid her bindings and lead her along back the way they’d came. He was talking, she noted, but she wasn’t listening. Yet, she felt strangely at ease. She’d never told anyone any of that, she’d never had the words to, never had the feelings to. Never allowed herself to have the feelings for everything. 

Perhaps she’d wake up in her bed and this would have been a dream, or perhaps she was already dead and death was playing a trick on her, letting her think she’d gotten away with it. Gotten away—she snorted to herself. With her heart and soul so scared from all the lives she’d taken, could she truly say she’d gotten away from it? Varian was cruel, she thought, not in the way she’d been led to believe, but making her live with the guilt, with the self-hatred... that was worse than the nothing of death.


End file.
